


Debauchery Incarnate

by Piratess_of_Tortuga



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Daedric Princes, Drinking, F/M, Light Dom/sub, Misty Grove, Morvunskar, NSFW, Skyrim Main Quest, Smut, The Myriad Realms of Revelry, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:21:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 36,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22156975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piratess_of_Tortuga/pseuds/Piratess_of_Tortuga
Summary: The Bannered Mare is unusually crowded. The bard entertains the patrons, the innkeeper keeps the mead flowing, and everyone's merry—well, almost. A Bosmer sits by the counter, down in the dumps. She’s feeling homesick, and not a day goes by without a dragon swooping down from the sky. She was supposed to save the world, and…*sigh*It isn’t always easy being the Dragonborn.
Relationships: Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Sanguine
Comments: 47
Kudos: 238





	1. A friendly drink

**Author's Note:**

> I think my creativity is secretly playing Elder Scrolls. I should be writing Dragon Age but came up with this instead. Oh well, let's do some adventuring in Skyrim again, shall we?

A thick strand of black hair floated in a cup of wine. Two elegant fingers dived into the sweet-scented liquid to lift it away.

Aerdwyn watched blankly as a couple of purple drops fell back into the cup.

The bard began yet another song somewhere behind her **.** “Ragnar the Red”, was it?

Ah, but what did it matter?

The Bosmer exhaled loudly and allowed the strand of hair to drop on her chest. She had just returned from Kynesgrove where she and a member of the Blades, Delphine, had witnessed how Alduin had resurrected one of his kin. As if there weren’t enough dragons flying around Skyrim already. Delphine had returned to the Sleeping Giant Inn in Riverwood, but Aerdwyn had chosen to stay behind and meet her later. She had wanted to rest a bit before embarking on yet another quest. And another one after that. And then another.

_Damn it all._

Luckily for Aerdwyn, the people of Whiterun respected her position as the Jarl’s Thane and let her be. Even the innkeeper had moved courteously to the other end of the counter. Aerdwyn didn’t want any company right now for she was feeling too depressed. When she had arrived in Skyrim, she had certainly not expected to end up in an execution line, and she most certainly hadn’t expected to turn out to be some kind of a dragon-blooded hero. The Bosmer sighed and took a long sip from her cup. She had fled her homeland because of the Thalmor. It was rumoured that she had a drop of Altmer blood running in her family, but that was probably nonsense. However, the Thalmor had taken her family under strict supervision in the name of “racial purity”, and the result of such was usually death and slaughter. Aerdwyn hadn’t wanted to stay for that, but oh, how she missed the forests of Valenwood. They had been so full of life, so colourful and warm. Skyrim was its grim contrary: cold and dull. There was one thing Aerdwyn admired here, at least: the beautiful lights in the Northern night sky. Alas, such slim consolation could only carry one so far. The Bosmer took another sip, longer than the previous one, and ran her right index finger around the cup’s edges after she placed it back on the counter. 

If only the Nirn was capable of _not_ falling apart when she sat down, just once. Alright?

The cup was half empty, and it hadn’t been touched in a moment. The Bosmer rested her head on her left hand and leant against the counter. Her hazel eyes were fixed on a nearby wheel of cheese, but in truth, she stared into nothingness. She didn’t even realise when someone appeared on her right side.

“Drowning our sorrows, are we?” a pleasant, slightly singsong male voice reached her ears.

Her reaction was slow and somewhat impassive.

“Shouldn’t I?” the Bosmer asked without bothering to look at him.

“Oh, I’m not judging. People need to loosen up every now and then.”

“Really? Then why are you here disturbing me?” 

“Well someone’s a bit cranky. I just thought you’d need someone to cheer you up.”

Aerdwyn rolled her eyes and finally glanced at the man beside her, about to tell him to leave her alone, but she didn’t. He was a Breton and not too bad looking at that. There was also something indescribably strange to him, something that made a pinch of her worries immediately disappear.

“Sorry”, she blinked. “It’s been a rough day.”

“I suspect that’s true for everyone here”, the man took a quick a glance around the inn.

“Well, _I_ suspect everyone else here isn’t expected to save the world.”

“’Save the world?’ Now, that sounds like a tough job. You should relax a bit.”

“Isn’t that what I’m doing now?” Aerdwyn gave a laugh, grabbed her cup and gulped down its contents. “I’m not even supposed to drink this according to the Green Pact.” 

“It’s your lucky day then!” the stranger exclaimed merrily. “I’ve got something better than what you just drank, a special brew.”

“Special, huh? Where did you get it?”

“Does it matter? Come, have a drink with me.”

The stranger pushed himself off the counter with a wide smirk on his face and moved to sit at a small table nearby. Aerdwyn drew lots on what she should do, but after glancing at the bottom of her empty cup, she turned it upside down on the counter and rose to her feet. The Breton was already opening a bottle, ready to pour two full tankards. 

“Here you go”, he said, offering her one of them after she sat down. “Now, let us drink.”

The Bosmer held her tankard tightly by the handle and eyed its contents warily.

“Aww, don’t be such a spoilsport. Drink!”

“Well”, Aerdwyn shrugged, “I guess Y’ffre is already angry with me.”

She took a long sip from the tankard **.** The brew tasted… funny. It was bitter but savoury.

“That’s the spirit”, the Breton smiled widely. “Forget about all the **‘** yiffs’, ‘yaffs’ and pacts **.** Tonight, we drink ourselves to Oblivion.”

“Hear, hear”, Aerdwyn returned the smile and raised her tankard to toast with him. “To killing dragons and giants and… Oh, whatever!”

She had taken just a sip, but it went to straight to her head.

_Woah, this stuff is strong…_

“Hey, tell you what, we should hold a drinking contest, you and me. If you win, I shall give you a staff.”

“A staff?” the Bosmer hiccupped. “Why would I need a staff?”

“Not just any staff, but a very special one!” the Breton leant casually against the back of his chair and dared her with an intense stare **.** “What do you say?”

Perhaps it was the wine or the strange brew talking, but Aerdwyn felt inclined to accept the Breton’s challenge. She had wanted to forget about being the Dragonborn for a moment. Besides, what was the worst that could happen? The gaze of two hazel eyes wandered along up the arm covered with black cloth until they found the stranger’s face and stopped there. Aerdwyn tilted her head with curiosity pushing through her mild inebriation. 

“May I at least know my opponent’s name before we begin?” she asked.

“Why of course”, the Breton had a strange allure in his gaze. “I’m Sam Guevenne. And you?”

“I’m not certain if I even have a name anymore. I seem to be stuck with the ‘Dragonborn’.”

The man gave a laugh, and despite the Bosmer’s obscure answer, he had only one question for her.

“Well, ‘Dragonborn’, shall we begin?”

He didn’t need to ask twice.

The first drink didn’t hit the elf's mind as hard as she would have imagined. In fact, she felt fine. Two tankards were placed on the table at the same time.

“That was easy”, Aerdwyn smirked with her confidence boosted. “Got any more?”

“That’s what this is about, isn’t it?” Sam chuckled as he began to pour the second pair of drinks. “Just give me a moment and… here we go.”

The Bosmer grabbed the metal handle eagerly **.**

“Second drink, down the hatch”, the Breton clinked his tankard against hers, and they both poured the velvety, treacherous liquid down their throats.

This time its effect started to take a toll on Aerdwyn, but she wasn’t going to back down. She wanted to win the staff, even if she didn’t know _why_ she wanted it.

“Uh”, her contender groaned. “I think I’ve hit my limit on these things. Tell you what, one more and you win the contest.”

While he set his tankard aside, the Bosmer slammed hers sloppily on the table.

“One more. No problemsh”, she slurred.

Her tankard was filled again, and good to her word, she emptied it just like the previous ones.

She shouldn’t have done that.

“Wow”, Sam marvelled. “You’ve really done it. The staff is yours.”

Aerdwyn blinked, struggling to keep her eyes open.

“Thash grape!” she rejoiced with a stupid smile on her face.

“You know, you’re a fun person to drink with. I know this _great_ little place where the wine flows like water. We should head there.”

“Yeaaah, jush le meh geth mi thingsh…”

The Bosmer’s vision began to darken, and she waved uncontrollably from one side to the other. Sam scrambled up from his chair and grabbed her free hand to help her stand up.

“Come on, let’s… Hey, you don’t look so good…”

True, that.


	2. A night to remember

“Hey, wake up!”

Aerdwyn opened her eyes slightly. Her vision was blurry, and she lifted her upper body off the stone floor to vomit **.** She coughed while the voice that had woken her up now shattered her head.

“You drunken blasphemer!” a woman screamed. “You’ll clean that up, you hear me?”

“What?” the Bosmer coughed again as she managed to sit on her knees. “’A blasphemer’? Whe—where am I?”

“Ah, you don’t even remember getting here, do you?” the priestess lowered her indignant voice. “You’re in the Temple of Dibella. You rushed in here, fondled the statues, and blathered incoherently about a marriage or a goat. Then, you passed out on that very spot and haven’t moved since.”

_A marriage?_ Aerdwyn wondered, holding her forehead in hopes of calming the thunder inside her head **.** _Gods, was I **that** drunk? _

“Was there—” she groaned as she tried to remember. “Was there a man named Sam with me?”

“Clean up your mess first”, the priestess snapped. “Grab a mop and clean that reeking puddle up. And pick up all the things you threw around the hall last night.”

“But I don’t even remember how I got here!”

“That’s not my problem. Now, clean up. Then we’ll talk.” 

Aerdwyn sighed heavily and placed her palm over her mouth when she began to feel nauseous again. Maybe she should drink a healing potion and get started. She hoped that she hadn’t actually married anyone. She _sincerely_ hoped that…

*******

The carriage stopped in front of the Frostfruit Inn. Aerdwyn hadn’t found her horse at the Markarth’s stables, so she had been forced to buy a lift. She had paid for a trip to Whiterun, but she had asked the driver to make a stop at Rorikstead where the priestess of Dibella had guided her to go. She still didn’t remember anything about what had happened, so she headed to the inn to find some clues. In truth, she hoped to find Sam there, but of course, she didn’t.

The Bosmer encountered a group of disapproving gazes instead.

“You have a lot of nerve showing up here, you know”, the innkeeper noted from behind his counter.

_Stendarr have mercy, what have I done this time?_

“Can’t say I’m surprised to hear that”, Aerdwyn uttered with a sigh. “Frankly, I have no idea what’s the reason this time.”

“You’re the one who stole Ennis’ goat, aren’t you?”

“I… stole a goat? What for?”

“Look, I heard that you were howling drunk when you got here, but that doesn’t make the situation any better”, the innkeeper folded his arms across his chest. “I suggest you go and speak to Ennis in the fields. Make amends.”

The Bosmer’s lips parted in a question yet to be spoken, but no words came out. She glanced around, starting to feel uneasy due to the scorn in the people’s gazes **.**

“Alright”, her mouth turned into a thin, wide line while she turned towards the door, nodding. “Thanks for your help.”

She received no answer, and she didn’t stay and wait for one **.**

The sooner the matter would be over with, the better.

The fields were situated further down the road **.** An angry cry reached Aerdwyn before she even passed the stick fence surrounding them.

“ _You_ ”, a furious Redguard marched towards her with a raised rake. “You’ve got a lot of nerve showing up in this town again!”

“Yes, I’ve heard that one already”, the Bosmer replied, appearing bored in all aspects. “You’re Ennis, I take it?”

“Yes _,_ I’m Ennis and _you_ stole my Gleda!”

“Your goat’s name is ‘Gleda’?”

“ _Yes_!” the man tightened his hold on the rake’s handle threateningly. “And you _sold_ her to a _giant_!”

The Bosmer stared at him with her eyes wide. She hadn’t certainly expected _that_.

“To a giant?” she asked incredulously. “Are you quite serious? No, no, wait. I don’t want to know.”

“Well, here’s something you should know: go and get Gleda back. If you don’t, you’ll not be welcome here anymore”, the farmer blustered with the rake still raised and ready to strike.

Should he have actually tried to attack her, Aerdwyn would have easily fended him off with a shout. However, she wanted information, and she’d probably acquire it only by helping the Redguard to get his damn goat back.

“Just tell me where to find the giant”, she muttered. “I’ll go fetch Gleda for you.”

After paying the carriage driver some extra to wait for her return, Aerdwyn had headed to the plains south of Rorikstead. True to Ennis’ word, she found a lone giant keeping a watchful eye over a goat with one of the shiniest coats she had ever seen. The giant didn’t seem hostile, but she still approached the two with healthy caution.

“Hey, um”, she held a break to determine the right word, “sir?”

The creature glanced down at her and grunted.

“I understand that I sold that goat to you. Correct?”

“Yessrr”, the giant rumbled.

“Aa, you see”, the Bosmer scratched the back off her neck, “she really wasn’t mine to sell. She belongs to someone else. Might I… buy her back?”

The next grunt left no room to err in its meaning. So, if the goat couldn’t be bought, should it be stolen—again? It was standing right there. Maybe Aerdwyn could just grab the rope around its neck and make a Whirlwind Sprint?

_No, no. Bad idea_ , she thought right away as the stunt would probably suffocate the goat.

The giant lowered his club when he saw how she drew her enchanted elven daggers 

_I guess I have to do this the old-fashioned way and try **not** to get crushed. _

_***_

The dappled grey horse neighed restlessly and seemed disinclined to go on. Aerdwyn didn’t want to force her mount any further either because Witchmist Grove lied ahead of them. She descended from the saddle and stroked the horse’s muzzle comfortingly.

“Easy, Baune, easy”, she soothed him and tied his reins to a nearby birch. “You can wait here.”

Baune chortled and reached to nibble the tree’s thin bark. Aerdwyn couldn’t help chuckling.

“Demonstrating, are we? Don’t worry, I won’t be long”, she smiled and turned to glance at the cottage sticking out from amidst the trees.

_I merely have one “marriage” to annul…_

Aerdwyn continued on foot, her fingers ready to grab her daggers should things go awry. From what Ysolda had told her, she didn’t actually know what to expect **.** The merchant had been happy to help the Thane to retrace her steps even if she had taken a golden ring from her and left it unpaid. Apparently, she would have to head to Morvunskar, a fortress not far from Witchmist Grove. As a token of thanks, she had promised to return the ring to Ysolda even if she didn’t know who had it. Who on the Nirn could be her mystery fiancée?

When the Bosmer drew closer to the secluded cottage, she prayed to every god not to have even asked that.

There were no sufficient words to describe neither the situation’s ridiculousness nor the Dragonborn’s consternation when a Hagraven appeared on the cottage’s stairs.

“Darling!” the hideous creature croaked with delight. “I’m so glad to see you.”

_“Darling”?_ the Bosmer’s stomach lurched **.** _So, this is — is… **By Mara.**_

“Um, yes”, she gave an uptight laugh, “about that…”

“Have you come to consummate our love?” the Hagraven asked hopefully. 

Aerdwyn’s face reddened, and she wasn’t even sure why she began to laugh.

“Oh no. No, no, _no_ … I was hoping to get the ring back.”

“ _What_? You want it for that hussy Esmerelda, with the dark feathers — don’t you? I won’t let her have you!”

“No, you misunderstand…” the Bosmer tried to explain before she had to jump out of the way of an incoming fireball.

She grimaced when the nearby fencepost scratched her right arm.

_Oh, for the love of…_ she composed herself, drew her daggers, and charged at the shrieking creature. _When I find that bloody Breton, I’m going to **kill** him._


	3. Misty Grove, part I

Lanterns illuminated the stone path. Quiet, soothing music echoed in the mist rising from the streams. After fighting her way through a fort full of necromancers and other mages, Aerdwyn suddenly wound down **.** Usually such illusions of calm meant, at least according to her experience, that something extremely bad was going to happen. Here, however, she was bewitched by the scenery and let down her guard. The Bosmer stopped by the first stream, listening to its jolly burble. She almost lost herself in the surrounding serenity at that moment.

 _I have to find Sam,_ she managed to remind herself why she was here, _and when I do, he’s got some explaining to do._

Aerdwyn lingered on some spots from time to time, but eventually, she arrived on a clearing. Several lanterns hung from ropes tied to the surrounding birches, and below them, there was a large table abundantly covered with food and drinks. The scent of wine wafted more heavily in the air with every step the Dragonborn took closer to the site. There were eight men sitting at the table **,** but not… Wait. Between the two largest birches on the right, there was a lavish, throne-like seat with a high back. Aerdwyn furrowed and slowed her steps. She caught a glimpse of the hem of a black robe and tried to reach to see more **.**

“So, you’re here”, a familiar voice noted. “I was beginning to think you might not make it.”

The Bosmer’s eyes flew wide open at first, but it wasn’t long before indignation kicked in. With her nostrils flared and lips pursed in a teeth-baring grimace, she marched in front of the Breton who sat casually on the seat padded with red cushions. 

“Why would you think that?” Aerdwyn wondered, cocking her head with a maniacal smile visiting her lips. “Was that because of the mess at the Temple of Dibella, or that goat in Rorikstead? Oh, wait. How about that Hagraven I _married_?”

“I thought you might not remember your first trip here”, Sam smiled smugly, glancing at the cup of wine placed on a wide armrest. “You had a big night. You’ve definitely earned the staff.”

“Shut up! No staff is worth what I’ve been through today.”

“Oh, you just went out into the world and spread merriment. Where’s the harm in that?”

The blades of the daggers gleamed when the light of the lanterns hit them.

“You’ll better have a terrific explanation for all this, or I’ll show you harm”, Aerdwyn snarled menacingly.

“You don’t want to do that”, the Breton said with no fear in his reddened eyes, disappearing into a purple whirl. “You see…”

Horizontal wrinkles formed on the Bosmer’s forehead, and her hold on her daggers loosened to the point where they dropped onto the ground **.** She felt a warm tingle over her cheekbones while she stared at the face on which red drew patterns amongst the ebony. Four horns adorned with golden rings stuck out from amongst the black hair that reached bare shoulders.

 _A Daedra?_ Aerdwyn nearly gasped in realisation. _But that — then…_

“I should thank you, lovely mortal”, Sam, or whoever he truly was, was seemingly amused by her sudden confusion. “I haven’t been so entertained in at least a hundred years.”

The young wood elf wanted to demand an explanation, among other things, for why he had had her conduct such a prank. The only question which passed her rosy lips, however, was…

“Who are you?”

“Yes, you might want to know that”, the Daedra’s reply was preceded by a chuckle before he continued more grandiloquently. “Well, you’re in the presence of Sanguine, Daedric Prince of Debauchery!”

The revealed state of affairs certainly explained everything that had happened, even if it took a moment for the Bosmer to grasp. Her mind was a little befuddled for her attention was drawn to the sight in front of her. She resisted it the best she could, but she couldn’t deny being mesmerized. Sanguine wasn’t, well, he wasn’t what one could presume a Daedra to look like for he was… handsome. The fact that he wore only light, black breeches and a red sash, leaving his upper body bare, didn’t exactly turn that fact over. Judging from the smirk on his face, Aerdwyn’s expression betrayed her thoughts shamelessly.

“Now, I could give you the staff as promised and let you go”, Sanguine mused, raising his cup and waving it slightly so that the wine swirled inside it. “However, I also think we could share one last drink before that.”

“That’s probably not a good idea”, Aerdwyn gave a laugh as she collected her thoughts. “I’ll probably steal someone’s cow next time and feed it to a dragon.”

“Ah, I almost forgot the Dragonborn thing. Wouldn’t you want to forget it temporarily as well? Come, sit on old uncle Sanguine’s lap.”

The Bosmer’s lips parted when she stared at the hand the Daedra offered her. She should say no and return to Skyrim.

“I…” she was about to decline, but then she made a mistake: she looked at his face.

The depths of his black gaze were so appealing, so inviting. The curve of his dark lips… With her arm slightly trembling, she took his hand. It was noticeably warmer than hers. Her heart leapt, and she blushed the moment her bottom touched Sanguine’s knees.

“That’s more like it”, he smiled and offered her his cup of wine. “Here, taste this.”

The Bosmer’s gaze moved between the purple liquid and the pair of eyes that stared at her intently. When she finally took the cup in her hands, she drank its remaining contents to the last drop. It wasn’t the same bitter brew they had drank in Whiterun, but velvety and spicy.

“That was… interesting”, Aerdwyn swept her tongue over her upper lip as she placed the empty cup on the armrest in front of her. 

“It’s one of my favourites”, Sanguine said, his tone turning huskier, “but I do appreciate the company more than any wine.”

His fingers began to travel across the Bosmer’s supple waist. The trail of warmth they left in their wake seeped through the furs and leathers of her scaled armour. The touch of a strong arm soon followed them as it was pressed against Aerdwyn’s back **.** She flinched.

She had started to feel sleepy from the moment Sanguine had touched her with his fingers as if her mind wasn’t her own anymore. Now, she was in control again.

“Thank you for the drink”, she thanked the Daedra as if he was a normal barkeep and escaped his grasp, accidentally tipping the empty cup over in the process, “and by all means, keep the staff you promised me. Just show me how to get out of here, and I’ll be on my way.”

When Aerdwyn rose to her feet, she heard no objections. However, Sanguine didn’t wish for her to go, and he made that known. The Bosmer’s attempt to leave came to an abrupt halt. She inhaled sharply in surprise and glanced down at the ebony-coloured hand that now firmly held her left one. A shiver crept over her shoulders and delved deeper until it freed another kind of feeling inside her. It forced the gaze of the upturned, almond-shaped eyes to rise to meet that of the Daedra’s who had leant forward **.** Aerdwyn’s mind was clear this time, but it betrayed her quickly all the same. No-one had touched her in quite some time with no other purpose in mind than trying to harm her. Perhaps she could… stay awhile? She turned towards Sanguine and offered him her other hand willingly.

“You’re unlike the waste of flesh that usually visits my realms”, he drew her closer until she straddled him. “So, tell me, black-haired vixen, what is the name of my chosen?”

The wood elf let go of the Daedric Prince’s hands and lowered her own gingerly. She was about to reply, but instead, she twitched backwards and raised her hands slightly back up. She glanced down at the spot of red skin she had just touched. Not that it had been unpleasant, oh no. She had just gotten… startled. Sanguine laughed heartily and pressed his right palm on her left cheek.

“Relax, sweet thing”, he chuckled, rubbing her light-toned skin with his thumb. “Please, tell me your name.”

“Aerdwyn Nightlock”, a cautious, coy smile lifted the right corner of the elf’s mouth.

“’Aerdwyn’. That’s a lovely name.”

The Daedra’s words were answered with incredulous laughter.

“I’m sure that someone like you has heard names far lovelier than any common Bosmer ones.”

“Perhaps, but rarely does the beauty of a name match the person who carries it.”

“Now you’re just flattering me.”

“Of course I am”, Sanguine brought his face closer to Aerdwyn’s as his hand left her cheek and inched towards the back of her head, “and not without a profound opinion.”

She flushed when his hot breath landed on her skin which already crawled from anticipation **.** The last remnants of her reason forced her to try to glance over her shoulder and see what she had almost forgotten.

“What about your guests?” she breathed.

“They have what they need and care little of anything else”, Sanguine scoffed and urged her to look at him with the movement of his hand. “What matters now is right before my eyes. Poor thing, abandoned by her god because of some petty pact. What about forgetting all that and worshipping a Daedra for a change, hmm?”

Aerdwyn didn’t answer, but her lips said yes.


	4. Misty Grove, part II

Warmth. The spicy taste of wine. The promise of pleasure.

Aerdwyn found all those things from Sanguine’s lips. Maybe she had been a fool to give in so easily. Maybe she wouldn’t be able to leave, and the World-Eater would win. It felt irrelevant, though, because the sensual touch of the Daedric Prince made her forget all her worries, all her duties. With him, she wasn’t the Dragonborn, but an ordinary Bosmer from Valenwood. Sanguine’s both hands sought her back and began to explore it in a circling motion. It kindled her desire, and she dared to take his face between her hands, intensifying the kisses they shared.

Then, something quite unexpected happened.

Aerdwyn felt a slight tingle on her back. The Daedra’s touch felt even warmer than before, and…

**_By the forest._ **

The Bosmer opened her eyes, and her face flushed when she disengaged from the passionate embrace. Quick as a thought, she lowered her hands on Sanguine’s shoulders before she pressed herself against him. A rippling sensation got mixed with embarrassment when her nipples touched his smooth skin.

She was _naked_. How on the Nirn did _that_ happen?

The answer to that question lied hidden in Sanguine’s chuckle.

“There’s no need to be bashful”, he caressed Aerdwyn’s back with the knuckles of his right hand.

“ _What did you do_?” she demanded with a hiss.

“It’s just a simple spell. It’s much more convenient than the traditional way.”

“But they’ll see, they’ll hear!”

“Oh, they don’t mind”, the Daedra’s low voice shook her very being. “They’re here for the wine and food. Nothing else interests them. My interests, however, lie with you, vixen.”

Dark lips moved eagerly towards the crook of the elf’s pale neck **.** The sound of Aerdwyn’s surprise turned into an intermittent sigh when they touched her. Sanguine slid his hands down her back, eventually grabbing her buttocks and massaging them. A moment later, she realised that the spell had worked on him, too, for she felt something hard rising to press her bottom. It was thick, and gods knew how long. She hadn’t thought about it, but she was tiny compared to the Daedra. When that fact made its way to her clouded mind, she felt frightened. However, the smouldering caress on her neck quickly washed her fears away. Sanguine lifted her up effortlessly as if she was but a leaf. His lips focused on her left breast that was now close enough for them to touch **.** They tasted its side at first, and shivers coursed through her. Aerdwyn remembered what the touch of another mer felt like, but this was something entirely different. Sanguine seemed to always hit the most sensitive spots, even those she didn’t even know she had. When his lips found her nipple, it felt like a thousand caresses at once, and she couldn’t hide her pleasure. She barely realised how something verged her opening. After finding a proper position, Sanguine lowered her enough so the firm tip of his member got pushed inside her. His lips disappeared, and he allowed Aerdwyn’s knees to descend on the seat’s cushions again. His member penetrated a little deeper into her in the process. She grimaced and tightened her loosened grasp on his shoulders.

_It’s too big, I can’t…_ she groaned to herself, and her legs trembled when Sanguine moved his hands to her waist, leaving her without support.

“Were in no hurry, sweet Dragonborn”, he whispered into her ear. “Take your time.”

For a while, the only sound in the Misty Grove was the occasional clanking of tankards and cups **.** Aerdwyn remained still, and Sanguine didn’t force her. When she eventually dared to lower herself, she didn’t get very far. She squeezed her eyes shut and suppressed a groan. Sanguine’s member seriously tested her limits. Ignoring the minor pain, she tried again **,** but it took time before she managed to lower herself all the way down.

Had the member been any longer than it was…

Aerdwyn’s breathing grew more rapid, and she leant against Sanguine again. She waited a moment, trying to relax by hearkening the sounds of the grove.

The opening of a wine cask, the gurgle of liquid, the screech of a bench, and then the same clanking as before.

Apparently, Sanguine had spoken the truth: his guests didn’t even realise what was going on a few feet away from the table. Encouraged, Aerdwyn pushed herself an inch or two away from the immortal Prince **.** He touched her left cheek lightly and smirked with allure **.** He then let his hand slide down her body back to her waist when she began to move again slowly. Her lips parted, and she couldn’t help whining silently, but she went all the way up and then down. The elf’s gaze was full of uncontainable lust, and even the slightest pain she might have felt was dispelled. Something was spreading within her like ink spilt on a paper. When she moved again, a bit faster this time, her body jerked as if a bolt of lightning had coursed through it. The pattern repeated itself every time. The fourth time, it was so violent that Aerdwyn’s body went completely slack, and Sanguine’s hold was the only thing that kept her from falling. Something was happening to her eyes. The hazel shade was washed away by a black tide. When the colour settled, it resembled that of Sanguine’s eyes. The Bosmer let out a long sigh, staying still as a statue until she sat up suddenly. The Daedra’s inviting gaze drew her deeper into the waters of pleasure and passion into which she wanted to drown.

He wanted her to worship him? Well…

The Bosmer dug her fingernails into the back of Sanguine’s neck like a hunting sabre cat. She grinned at him mischievously and began to move with ferocity, bouncing on the ebony delight that was his member. He moved both his hands on the seat’s armrests as if to see what she would do if he let her. He observed her every move and expression as they changed, grunting occasionally when he got buried inside her to the hilt. Aerdwyn had lost the track of time a good while ago and had no idea how long she had kept moving. Her body was screaming for rest somewhere beyond her consciousness, and it was granted when she crashed her lips against Sanguine’s and sat still. However, she wasn’t content. She acted like she was going to devour him while she began to sway her hips in a circling motion. Sanguine answered her kiss with equal intensity. He clenched his hands around the edges of the armrests and growled low from his throat, nearing for release.

For the hunter who deemed him her prey, that was a sign.

Aerdwyn pushed her stamina to its limits as she fastened her pace, and an unexpectedly intense wave of pleasure washed over her **.** A moan vibrated against the Daedra’s dark lips when she fought not to let go of them. She moved and resisted up to the point where Sanguine bared his teeth and broke their kiss by flinging his head back. He grunted loudly as he came, squeezing the armrests so tightly that one could have thought to even hear the mournful creak of breaking wood. Aerdwyn moved a couple of times more until her legs gave in and she collapsed against the Daedra. She had stubbornly continued until she was sure to have pleased him. The merciless, searing waves of her orgasm burned her core, and her muscles tried to desperately flex around Sanguine’s member that filled her **.** The Bosmer’s heart attempted to break free from her chest, and her breathing was shallow for a while. After her acute need for air turned into even panting, she felt a warm hand stroking the back of her head.

“You did well, my chosen one”, Sanguine purred as he buried his cheek in her hair. “I’d rather you stayed, but who would save my would-be guests from that black dragon then? I promise that someday I’ll have you — all for myself. Alas, that moment isn’t now **.** It’s time for you to go.”

***

The regular customers of the Bannered Mare sat by the fire pit **,** warming themselves and enjoying their mead while the bard entertained them with playful tunes **.** None of them seemed to notice when a certain wood elf appeared on the same chair on which she had sat during the drinking contest. She blinked and looked around while her eyes assumed their natural colour. What had happened? Had she… dreamt it all? The Misty Grove, Sanguine and…

“ _Unh”,_ Aerdwyn groaned when the ache between her legs told her that all that had been _very_ true.

The bard happened to glance at her, and his gaze got fixed on her for some reason **.** She ignored his stare and raised her hand to sweep sweat off her brow. Her arm had felt strangely sticky upon lifting as if it had been glued — to her side…

**_What_ ** _?_

With her eyes widened by an ominous feeling, the Bosmer glanced down, and her face dropped the moment she did so. Her skin crawled, and panic drove her to the solution she thought of fastest.

“ ** _Tiid Klo Ul!”_**

The ache spread all over the Aerdwyn’s body while she ran through the still tavern, bare as a newborn baby. Hopefully, she had slowed time before anyone else aside from the bard had seen her. That would be a small consolation, of course, because he would undoubtedly boast that he’d witnessed the Dragonborn’s “feminine charms”. Aerdwyn headed to her room upstairs, slammed the doors closed and banished the ache from her body with a healing potion. When she threw herself onto the nearby bed, she nearly hit something. She raised herself off the mattress with her right arm and frowned. The staff resembled a rose with its thorns and bright, glass-like petals, and it had a familiarly coloured sash tied around it. After what she had just been put through, Aerdwyn nearly snarled as she grabbed the staff to throw it onto the floor. However, her anger was short-lasted, and she ended up lowering the Sanguine Rose beside her. She untied the sash to cover her waist with it and rested her head on the corner of the nearest pillow to sleep her exhaustion away.

A smile spread on her lips.

Despite everything the Dragonborn had experienced after unknowingly agreeing to a drinking contest with the Daedric Prince of Debauchery, she realised, she didn’t regret a thing **.**

Well, nothing that had happened in Oblivion, at least. 


	5. The Thalmor Embassy

A dry branch snapped under the carriage wheel. The brown horse chortled when a small patch of snow dropped from a nearby tree onto its back. The road to the Thalmor Embassy snaked along the mountainside. It had started to snow a moment ago. Aerdwyn sat on the back of the carriage, fiddling the red sash she had wrapped around her arm. Delphine hadn’t let her use it instead of the belt she had given her along with the party outfit, saying that it would draw unwanted attention. The Bosmer had persisted by hiding it under her long sleeve to show that she would hear no objections. Everything else she had been willing to leave behind to be retrieved later, but not the sash. It felt like a more… personal gift than the staff which she had given for their plan’s inside-man, Malborn, to smuggle into the Embassy. When Aerdwyn had entered that portal in Morvunskar, she had intended to give “Sam” a piece of her mind for all the trouble he had caused her, but she had ended up having sex with a Daedric Prince. It was as if he had read her mind, given what she had wanted deep down, what she had needed… and yet, as fitting for his nature, it had also been an incredibly selfish act from his side. He had wanted her, and he had been ready to use every means at his disposal to make that come true. On the other hand, everything he had done had been meant to make her feel better. That was a contradiction Aerdwyn couldn’t quite put her finger on yet. Maybe it was something she had done, maybe not. One thing she knew for certain, however, was that she couldn’t push Sanguine aside from her mind. Even now, when they were almost at the Embassy’s door, she thought about him instead of the mission **.** What did he want with her? Surely even he hadn’t planned it all in advance, right?

_…right?_

***

The party was a dull affair. Aerdwyn had been greeted at the door by the ambassador herself before she had been allowed to mingle with the other guests. She recognized the Thalmor Justiciar of Markarth and the Jarl of Morthal, but otherwise, they were all strangers to her. She should concoct a diversion that would give her ally enough time to help her slip away from the party. If they managed to pull that off, she would be free to search for evidence about a connection between the resurrected dragons and the Thalmor **.** Maybe Jarl Idgrod would be willing to help her, but if she wasn’t…

 _Ah, but of course_! the Bosmer smiled to herself when she saw how the Redguard merchant whom she had met before entering the Embassy seeped liquor into himself like a sponge. _How convenient._

While the other guests concentrated on their personal interests, Aerdwyn glided gracefully to the counter behind which Malborn was serving drinks for the guests and asked him for two cups of Colovian Brandy. Her late experience had given her an idea. She thanked the other Bosmer and waited until the Redguard’s own cup was empty before moving to sit next to him on the bench.

“You look thirsty my friend. Need a drink?” she asked casually, offering the man one of the cups.

“My, that’s very perceptive of you”, he was seemingly exhilarated as he set his cup aside to take the one she offered. “None of the waiters will bring me a drink here, Elenwen must have told them to cut me off, the frigid bitch. Afraid I’ll cause another scene, I suppose…”

“Why on the Nirn would you do that?” Aerdwyn played appalled.

“You tell me. I’m but a man trying to get by in this harsh world.”

“I think that’s an honourable goal, worthy of a drink.”

“Ha! Amongst this gathering of pinch-pennies and lick-spittles you are a person after my own heart”, the Redguard raised his cup. “Cheers!” 

“Cheers.”

The two cups clanked together, but whereas the merchant downed his share of brandy without even savouring its taste, the Bosmer merely brought the cup close to her lips.

“Ah, what a fine brew!” the Redguard marvelled. “Alas, my thirst cannot be slaked so easily. Could you…?”

“Get you another one? Tell you what, I’ll give you mine”, Aerdwyn practically put the cup in his hand.

“Well, thank you!”

“Don’t mention it. Last time I had a night out, I drank… a bit too much.”

“Ha! Made a mess, did you? I know that feeling”, the Redguard laughed heartily and downed his third cup. “You know what? You’ve been so generous with me. If there’s anything I can ever do for you, do not hesitate to call upon me!”

A smirk lied hidden on Aerdwyn’s rosy lips.

”Actually, there is something you could do for me right now…”

***

The guard collapsed onto the floor with blood gurgling from his throat. The loud crash his armour had caused drew the attention of the other Altmer, but the invader had already disappeared. Aerdwyn sheathed her new glass daggers and snuck along the stone fence until she got a clear view over the courtyard. It was time to see if her secret weapon would work as she believed it would. If not… well, then it should be stated that the court wizard of Whiterun didn’t hold much knowledge over Daedric Artefacts. The Sanguine Rose slid out of the crude holster Aerdwyn had made for it. She targeted the other side of the courtyard and cast the spell, hoping it would work. True to what she had been told, a Dremora appeared, drawing the attention of the soldiers immediately. While her “champion” fought on her behalf, eager to cleave the high elves in two with his greatsword, she hasted forward **.** When the Dragonborn managed to reach the battlement unnoticed, she jumped down, landing on a pile of snow on the courtyard. It seemed that the Thalmor still had their hands full with their fierce foe, so she followed the Solar’s wall, keeping to the shadows and slipping inside — just in time before the Dremora disappeared. The guards would soon return to their posts, unaware of what had come to pass under their very noses.

Once inside the Solar, the Bosmer soon came to realise that the rest wouldn’t be so easy. She heard talk from the next room, and the guard standing in the entry hall spotted her nearly right away.

“What the—? An intruder! Alarm!” he shouted, trying to call for reinforcements **.**

He had to be silenced quickly. Still holding the staff in her right hand, Aerdwyn summoned a Dremora to prevent those who were in the next room from intervening. She then drew one of her daggers and threw it towards the guard, but he reflected it with his shield.

That left her with little choice of what to do next.

Aerdwyn threw the staff onto the floor, hearing a nasty sound when one of its thorns shattered, and unsheathed her remaining dagger. Making use of her speed and agility, she charged towards her adversary. The leather armour she had bought to replace her old one, left somewhere in Sanguine’s realm, gave her more room to move than the shining elven armour the Altmer wore. The trick was to find an opening in his defence and strike, preferably to his neck. Aerdwyn evaded an incoming blow and slashed at her opponent, only to hit his well-protected waist. She didn’t despond but turned and mustered all her strength to push him to the floor. She succeeded, and while the guard struggled to get back up, his head bowed and his neck partially bared, she struck. The Altmer twitched at her feet as she caught her breath, but her welcomed moment of recovery was soon cut short. After the Dremora disappeared, a Thalmor Wizard entered the hall. Aerdwyn caught the shield of the fallen guard and plucked her dagger out of his flesh.

The rest truly didn’t seem to be so easy at all…

***

By the time the Dragonborn saw the sky again, she had left a trail of Thalmor corpses in her wake for which she wasn’t sorry in the least. She hadn’t found any evidence that would tie them to the reappearance of dragons, though. That dubious honour belonged to Alduin and him only. Aerdwyn had found out that the Thalmor were particularly interested in tracking down a man named Esbern, one of the last members of the Blades like Delphine **.** That information had nearly cost Malborn’s life, but she had managed to free him. Missing a piece, the Sanguine Rose didn’t seem to work anymore, and she had had to surprise his captors from the shadows. She had also freed a man named Etienne Rannis who had been interrogated and captured by the Thalmor. The three had escaped the Embassy through a tunnel inside which a frost troll had found a cosy little home for itself. It had seemed very determinate to eat them, at least until it had been slammed against the rocks by a shout. Aerdwyn could have dealt with the troll permanently, of course, but she had deemed it an excellent block for their possible pursuers. Now, she should return to Solitude’s stables to retrieve Baune and then head for Riverwood to meet Delphine.

It was time to put another spanner in the Thalmor’s works **—** and perhaps have a drink before that **.**


	6. How a Daedra pursues his fancies

The Bee and Barb — the best Riften, the city of thieves, had to offer. It was not much mind you, but it was enough. Aerdwyn actually considered it to be quite homely with the wreaths and all. With that thought, she also proved to herself that she wasn’t a traditional Bosmer anymore. Once she had respected the Green Pact and let all the green growing things be but look at her now: drinking wine made from grapes and admiring dry, dead snowberry branches.

 _Ugh,_ the tired hero rested her head against the wall and closed her eyes.

Maybe she shouldn’t drink wine at all if it always made her this melancholic, but that was pure nonsense. She had abandoned her people’s traditions the moment she chose to eat berries to survive when she had been on the run from the Thalmor **.** What did it matter what she ate or drank? She hadn’t revered any of her people’s gods properly in a long time. She couldn’t help thinking that maybe it was time to let them be and embrace a new divinity. At least that was what her heart, or something much darker, within her demanded. But she wasn’t greedy, gluttonous, nor was she a drunk. What could she offer to Sanguine if not…?

An air current twirled closer and landed suddenly on the slightly blushed cheeks. Two hazel eyes emerged from hiding, and the Bosmer soon realised to be staring at an Imperial with black hair and a goatee.

“You’re sitting on my bench”, the man stated indignantly.

“On the contrary”, Aerdwyn replied nonchalantly. “Since I’m sitting on it right now, it’s mine for the moment.”

“You’re brave, I’ll give you that. Others wouldn’t be as foolhardy as to pick a fight with a master of the arcane.”

“Is that so?” the cup of wine touched the bow-shaped lips briefly. “Well, ‘master wizard’, perhaps I am just royally stupid then.”

“Haha, funny”, the Imperial gave a sarcastic laugh. “Now, if you’re not here to either hire or spend a night with me, I suggest you leave.”

The wood elf couldn’t believe her ears.

“Is that your idea of flirting?”

“Depends. But like I said, if you were so kind…

Aerdwyn rolled her eyes and exhaled sharply.

“If I were to be kind, I’d shout you out of the door”, she huffed. “Otherwise I’d just scorch your sorry arse with dragon fire. Are we clear?”

The arrogant mage didn’t get a chance to reply when a third party joined their little argument.

“She’ll do it, you know”, Sam said. “Here, have a drink and be merry **—** elsewhere.”

The stupefied Imperial dropped his gaze to the pint of ale offered to him. He turned his nose up at it first, but he eventually grabbed it, grimacing at the Bosmer and the Breton as he left **.**

The bench creaked when the weight on it increased.

Warmth began to ripple on Aerdwyn’s cheeks. Her body stiffened, and she took a sip of wine to banish the tension.

“Are you following me?” she questioned the disguised Daedra, trying to appear to be more interested in the shape of her cup than him **.**

“Why would you think that?” he played clueless, shrugging and crossing his right leg over the other **.** “I just happened to be here and thought to come by and say hello.” “Yeah, right”, Aerdwyn snorted. “Then why I haven’t seen you all evening?”

“I was in my room, of course.”

“Fine. Play coy if that’s your thing.”

“You know more than well what my thing is”, the suggestive words made her flush. “That sash around your waist tells me you haven’t forgotten.”

“I’ve nothing I can offer you”, the Bosmer stuttered a little.

Sam smirked.

“Oh, I beg to differ.”

Embarrassment, what a powerful silencer. The back of a leather bodice got rubbed against the wall planks as Aerdwyn turned away from the Breton **.** She had thought about it, she had wanted it, but now that she was in Sanguine’s presence again, she felt… bashful. He was unpredictable. He could just bend her over one of the tables and take her in front of everyone. What a talking point for whole Riften would that be! Much to her surprise, Aerdwyn found herself intrigued by the thought. Maybe she truly had something to offer to the Daedric Lord. She turned to glance over her left shoulder discreetly.

“Tell me the truth”, she demanded.

“What truth might that be?” Sam asked, his voice deep as he lowered his right leg and moved closer to her on the bench. 

“Why are you here?”

“The truth, my dear vixen”, the Bosmer’s heart missed a beat when she felt how curious lips touched her earlobe, “is that I wanted to see you.”

How selfish and thrilling that sounded at the same time.

“Should we get… drinks?” she suggested gingerly as she finally turned to properly look at the face framed with dark brown hair.

“One of my favourite questions”, Sam chuckled.

“But not your special brew this time, thank you. I really _don’t_ want to end up stealing someone’s cow.”

“What a shame, but I’ll comply. What would you suggest?”

“I hear that Velvet LeChance is quite interesting. It contains a hint of nightshade, and they sell it only here.”

The wood elf’s reply proved to be quite satisfactory **.**

“What are we still waiting for?”

Jolly laughter blended to the other sounds of the inn. More of Riften’s inhabitants had arrived there to have a drink after a hard day’s work. No-one really noticed the Bosmer and the Breton who had sat, talked, and drunk together for quite a while now. It seemed that some of the victims of Sam’s special brew had done far crazier things than Aerdwyn. Some poor bugger had literally ridden an elk through a city with himself being naked, Martin or whatever his name had been.

It didn’t matter.

Aerdwyn hadn’t had this much fun in weeks. The stories Sam told—careful not to reveal his real identity, of course—had her rubbing her hands with amusement. He was good company and considering who he was, it would have been disappointing otherwise.

“So, tell me”, Sam chatted. “What comes to the adventures of the mighty Dragonborn these days?”

“Oh, the same as always”, the Bosmer lowered her gaze and her smile faded a little. “Dragons and the constant threat of sudden death, very gruesome business.”

“Don’t succumb to despair, sweet one”, a strand of hair was swept gently behind her ear. “It doesn’t suit you.”

It was unlikely that those words and the gesture were a genuine expression of compassion, but they helped.

“I’m sorry”, Aerdwyn hummed, her eyes twinkling when she glanced at Sam. “I’ll be fine when this whole mess is over — provided I’m not dead by then, that is.”

“Mh-hmm”, he leant closer to whisper in her ear. “I can help you feel better anytime you want, so why wait? Last time you showed me what you can do, now it’s my turn.”

She felt as if she had just turned red from head to toes.

“I’ve rented a room upstairs”, she breathed, her pulse fastening.

A dark, content chuckle vibrated against her skin.

“Lead the way, my chosen.”

***

The room was plain but sufficient. It had a bed, a chair, and a chest in which to store equipment. Aerdwyn crouched in front of the latter, searching for powdered blue mountain flower from her satchel to prevent a hangover in the morning when she should begin to look for Esbern. Of course, it would be wise to go right now, but… The sound of closing doors gave an explanation on her behalf. The light steps of a Breton turned suddenly heavier, and the room’s modest, worn bed creaked loudly shortly afterwards. the Bosmer was opening the cork of a small bottle when she heard a faint clank.

“I see you’ve used my Rose”, Sanguine noted.

Aerdwyn sprinkled a pinch of the fine dust on her tongue and swallowed it with the help of saliva. She couldn’t help feeling ashamed. She had managed to break the Sanguine Rose the first time she had used it.

“I had a nasty run-in with a bunch of high elves, and the staff dropped onto the floor”, she placed the corked bottle back into the satchel and closed the chest’s lid. “I’m sorry.”

“Details, details. Don’t be sorry, vixen. The Sanguine Rose breaks all the time and is fixed with but a thought.”

And so it truly was.

The hem of the green, woollen dress brushed the floor planks. The Bosmer straightened her slender form and glimpsed at the staff placed against the wall by its creator. The broken thorn had been restored. Aerdwyn gave a muffled, relieved laugh, and a smile strived to spread across her lips, but it disappeared the moment she laid her eyes on Sanguine. He wore a bright red loincloth and little else save for the golden earrings adorning his left earlobe. She held back a gasp whereas he looked around **,** quirking an eyebrow.

“What a small, dreary place this is”, he groaned. “How does one even fit to sleep in here?” 

“I’m sure the rooms meant for the Daedra are downstairs”, Aerdwyn joked and took a few casual steps closer to the bed.

“Hey, that’s a wonderful idea! Let’s show the others how it’s done. Maybe they’ll even join us.”

An awkward titter escaped the Bosmer who briefly averted her gaze.

“My Lord”, she addressed him, “I’m afraid I’m feeling selfish tonight.”

“Hm, truly?” the Daedra grinned and stood up. “Are you so eager for my favour?”

He walked to her, casting a spell towards the door, and she felt herself small in front of his black stare. 

“I am”, a rippling heat climbed along her body as she yielded to temptation **.**

Sanguine hummed in contentment as he raised her chin with his right index finger. He cast another spell which wrapped the room in total silence as if it had been separated from the rest of the inn.

“I don’t always think my decisions through”, he said, “but it seems I chose well this time…”


	7. His will

The red sash was untied and moved aside, but the rest of the Bosmer’s clothes weren’t so lucky. This time Sanguine used no spell. He had promised to show her what he could do, and that’s exactly what he did. He grabbed the edges of her leather bodice, the cords of which soon snapped under the pressure **.** After casting it aside, he tore at her dress’ collar until her chest had only one obstacle to protect it from the Daedra’s salacious gaze.

It stood little chance against him.

With Aerdwyn’s side set breasts bare, Sanguine caught her waist and lifted her up effortlessly **.** Air nearly escaped her lungs when he trapped her between himself and the wall. He didn’t give her time to regain her breath for he captured her lips fiercely with his, and she could do nothing but cling to him with her legs and arms. The Daedra’s touch felt hotter than before, literally, as if he was more… thrilled. When he finally allowed her lips a rest, he lifted her higher and buried his face between her breasts. The Bosmer gasped, sliding her hands to rest on his shoulders. He turned his head so that the rough surface of his longer left horn brushed her skin. He remained motionless, lulling her to a sense of calm and safe before he surprised her like a stalking predator. Aerdwyn might have been the hunter that night in the Misty Grove, but now, she was the one being hunted. 

“ _Sanguine_ ”, she breathed the Prince’s name, her body overwhelmed by heat.

His touch was maddening. Compared to the pleasure it had brought her during their last encounter, it was now closer to merciless torture. The way his blood-red tongue flicked around her left nipple before leaving a burning trail between her breasts when he turned his attention to the other. The sucking, the nibbling… Sanguine’s every action was planned to show that he was in command. Aerdwyn hadn’t prepared for that kind of intensity. She was losing herself to him, bit by bit, and by the time he stopped, she was all his.

The hold on the Bosmer’s waist tightened as she was moved away from the wall. Her hazel gaze wandered around the ceiling, and her arms and legs slid gingerly down Sanguine’s sides when he kneeled and lowered her onto the floor. Unlike she would have expected, she wasn’t received by dry planks, but by the softest fur she had ever touched. It was thick like a cave bear pelt but still fluffy like snow fox’s fur. Aerdwyn’s own silky, black hair spread over it as gentle waves. Were they even in her room anymore? The chest next to her head said yes. The elf’s breathing was heavy with excitement **,** and her fingers dug into the fur while Sanguine savoured the moment. Instead of ripping her underpants away, he slid them carefully over her legs and threw them aside. He grasped her both ankles, holding them like they were his greatest treasures.

“Your skin is so soft it makes me want to consume you, my gracious devotee”, the Daedra placed a kiss on her left ankle, “my beautiful Dragonborn.”

His voice was a raw mix of ardour and danger. Aerdwyn held her breath when his lips shifted towards her unprotected opening. If his touch felt so intoxicating wherever he touched her, how would it feel on the most sensitive part of her body? 

“I’m going to pleasure until you beg me to stop”, Sanguine continued in the same low voice as before. “Only then will I have you—and make you beg for more.”

That was a promise he had every intention to hold.

The Bosmer lied still, waiting for what was to come. A hand moved back and forth along her inner thigh, sending shivers up her body. It was followed by hungry lips which left hot, long kisses here and there. So sensual, so lewd. Everything from the most delicate touch to the lust-driven impatience **.** Aerdwyn closed her eyes and exhaled, her breath quavering. Sanguine was near to her opening, so near… She waited for something to happen for what seemed like an eternity. She heard the soft rustling of fur just before something touched her outer labia. The Daedra held her right calf and pressed his cheek against it. Meanwhile, his left index finger ventured around her opening. It moved up and down, changed sides, and circled its prize. Aerdwyn’s left leg stiffened every time the finger ran purposefully over her nub. Sanguine tilted his head, and she felt the now familiar, rough touch of his horn on her skin again. His breath was a ship travelling along her leg and straight towards her core **.** After his finger made yet another full circle, he stopped teasing her with it. Soon, the Bosmer gasped and exhaled blissfully when she felt two fingers slowly sinking into her.

“So wet, so ready”, the Prince smiled, humming in satisfaction. “Your body is willing to accept me, but I’m not going to go so easy on you, vixen. You mortals know only a little of the wonderful thing called pleasure. Would you like me to show you its true potential?”

He twisted his fingers inside her, and her reply came out as a deep sigh **.** That made him chuckle.

“I take that as a yes.”

The Daedra clenched his fingers slightly, and when he moved them, they rubbed the top of Aerdwyn’s vagina. She wanted to squirm from exquisite pleasure, but no matter how her muscles clenched, no matter how her body ached for release, she fought back. Her moans were suppressed to whimper, her arousal kept stubbornly in check. Something inside Aerdwyn incited her to endure as long as possible, to show her new Lord that she wasn’t so easily undone. However, the way he caressed her leg with his lips **…**

The sensation was becoming overwhelming.

When Sanguine turned his hand enough to place his thumb on her swollen nub, it nearly threw her body into disarray. Her legs trembled, and her fast, intermittent breath was matched only by the furious beating of her heart. Sanguine withdrew his fingers when she regained enough restraint to calm herself a little.

“Don’t resist vixen”, he told her with soft cunning as his lips slid down her leg. “Embrace the pleasure, revel in it. Trying to hold it will only cost you.”

The Bosmer had no idea what her immortal lover had meant. The ecstasy her battle had left in its wake kept her mind shrouded. She was barely aware that the Daedra now had her bare folds right in front him like a meal meant for sating his unending hunger.

“The honey dripping from you”, he murmured against her labia, “so tempting…”

He placed a torrid kiss on her opening. Aerdwyn cried out ardently, hooking up her knees and pressing herself against him. Sanguine grabbed her legs to keep her still and available when she didn’t control her moves anymore. Despite what he had told her, even when his lips found her tender nub, she still tried to hold back **.**

As he had said, it cost her. 

The strong, ebony hand left Aerdwyn’s right leg, reaching over her lower stomach in a waving motion. It released something incredibly powerful into her, a spell maybe, and an excruciating wave of pure pleasure started to wreak havoc inside her body and mind. The orgasm she had tried to withhold struck her with multiplied intensity. It burned her already sensitive folds, and the ache in her nub that Sanguine’s lips still caressed was pure agony. 

“I’m sorry, my prince, _I’m sorry_ ”, the Bosmer whined pitifully when she learned the meaning of his words the hard way.

Instead of answering her, he let go of her legs for she was too weak to struggle anymore. Making use of his now free hands, he moved them near her anus to massage the skin around it with his thumbs **.** It was all new to Aerdwyn, but the Daedra didn’t give her time to decide what she thought about it. He began to nibble her nub, and it made her spent body feel numb. There was no barrier to protect the Bosmer from the sensation his touch caused, and another orgasm wasn’t far away. When Sanguine’s tongue invaded her folds to taste her, her body jerked, and she could do nothing but whine. Something was unravelling within her, something inviting and dark…

“Please”, Aerdwyn’s weak voice managed to escape her, but the Daedra acted as if he had heard nothing.

He spread her tight anal opening a little.

“Sanguine, I…”

He withdrew his tongue from her folds and touched her red, swollen nub with its tip while her body still quivered.

“ _Please!_ ”

The third plea, spoken with all the strength left in the exhausted Dragonborn’s lungs, finally made Sanguine stop. His breath felt even hotter against her skin.

“Please what, vixen?” his voice was sultry and menacing.

“I”, Aerdwyn whimpered, “I can’t…”

Suddenly, she felt something invading her rear, and she grimaced a little and tasted the salty sweat on her lower lip.

Sanguine had pushed one fingertip inside her anus.

“Please what?” he repeated more sternly and worked his finger deeper into her.

“Please, my Lord, _have mercy_!”

The wood elf’s plea was finally heard, or so she thought. She distinguished the Daedra’s features as he withdrew his finger and crawled over her.

“Why would I do that, little mortal?” he asked when their gazes met **.** “I am just getting started.”

Fear coursed through the wood elf, leaving her staring at the Prince whose right hand now rested on her cheek. There was no mercy in his dark gaze. Instincts that had saved her more than once drove her to try to raise herself off the fur’s soft embrace.

She shouldn’t have done that.

The hand moved from her cheek to seek her neck firmly, forcing her back down and choking her lightly as a warning.

“You aren’t allowed to do anything unless I say so, little Dragonborn”, Sanguine bared his teeth. “I promised to show you what I can do, and I intend to deliver.”

The choking stopped. Aerdwyn focused her gaze on the golden ring on Sanguine’s shorter, right horn, barely daring to breathe. She felt a yank on her hair, and soon something else as well, something she remembered well. The Daedra’s thighs brushed her bottom and hips. He was not gentle in the least when he placed his member on her opening and pushed himself inside her as fast as her folds allowed. Aerdwyn screamed although it hurt only a little. On the contrary, Sanguine’s touch was, as always, like searing pleasure. He yanked her hair more roughly while his own brushed her skin.

“I gave you no permission to scream, vixen”, he growled. “Do you defy me?`”

“Never, my Prince”, the Bosmer tried to shake her head.

“Good”, Sanguine smirked, lowered his lips to her neck, and moved his hips.

The Daedra’s first thrust was sharp and harsh, and it made Aerdwyn groan. He punished her by biting her neck. When she quieted down, he moved again. She grimaced, and although Sanguine didn’t even look at her, he bit her. He made it clear that he was in control and wouldn’t hear, nor feel any protests. The next time he moved, Aerdwyn stayed silent, and he continued. The same, unravelling feeling took over her again, and her eye colour started to change **.** Her silence was broken by a fervent moan **,** and for that, her lover didn’t punish her. Instead, he intensified the rocking of his hips. His lips didn’t leave her neck for a second. Aerdwyn placed her hands on his sides, and he allowed that. From behind a lust-filled haze, she realised how Sanguine’s face appeared before her again. He let go of her hair and curled his arm to rest his left hand on the top of her head, and much to her dismay, he stilled. She fixed her black eyes on him and waited in silence. She didn’t complain. Sanguine brushed his lips against hers.

“Do you fully pledge yourself to me, my chosen?” his question vibrated along the soft, rosy curves.

“I’m already yours, my Prince”, Aerdwyn’s reply was accompanied by the shiver in her breath.

Her words were followed by a content hum on Sanguine’s part.

“Not quite, sweet thing”, he placed his right index finger on her forehead, “but I can make it so. Just say it.”

The Bosmer’s answer was quick for there was nothing in existence she wanted more than what had been asked of her. 

“ _I pledge myself to you_.”

Warm and ticklish lines were drawn on the pale, elven skin **.** Aerdwyn didn’t see it herself, but the outlines of a fiery rose appeared on her forehead. For a moment, Sanguine’s emblem shone on her skin as if branded with a hot iron, but then it vanished. Suddenly, Aerdwyn felt complete, her senses in bloom. What Sanguine had said about mortals… It’s meaning was now clear to her. The Daedra admired her, or his own handiwork, smugly **.**

“Do you now know the true meaning of the wondrous thing that is pleasure, lovely vixen?” he almost purred.

The Bosmer lowered her eyelids in bliss.

“Yes.”

Sanguine’s expression was bursting with self-satisfaction.

“Excellent. Now, allow me to show it to you…”


	8. The suspicions of a cornered rat

A drop of water hit the Dragonborn’s head like a tiny stone. The Ratway wasn’t known to be the most luxurious part of Riften. After exploring its twisty tunnels for an hour, fighting all kinds of lowlifes and bribing shady characters who were probably thieves, Aerdwyn started to miss the dusty, old tombs and the draugr. The draugr were simple **.** They just tried to kill whoever passed their way. The inhabitants of the Ratway, on the other hand, tried to sneak up on the unsuspecting to rob them first and decide whether they should kill them afterwards as well **.** Oh, and of course the Thalmor were there, too. Luckily, even if the Dragonborn could have handled herself, she had help **.**

The petals of the Sanguine Rose glimmered in the torchlight **.**

A Dremora walked a few steps behind Aerdwyn. When her bodyguard had appeared, she had felt disappointed **.** It had been absurd to wish that the Rose would summon _him_ , and yet... The noise a skeever alerted the Dremora, and it ran past her to finish the creature off. Aerdwyn smiled to herself. Considering what had happened last night at the Bee and Barb—something no-one had heard thanks to a muffling spell— maybe it would be bad for her success if the one whom she had dedicated herself to was present right now.

Their meetings seemed to have rather intimate ends, after all.

The moves, the touches, the heat—each of them meant to reveal the secrets of the domain of desires. The memory of them was so vivid that Aerdwyn could almost relive them. Sanguine had been insatiable. Even after ejaculating, he had merely changed the position to start all over. His stamina was beyond any mortal. He had demanded to have full control **,** but even so, he hadn’t forgotten about Aerdwyn’s pleasure. It probably just felt like it, of course, because even if she was the Dragonborn, she was beneath the Daedric Prince and nothing but a servant to him. Still, the way he treated her during their encounters soothed her harried mind. His company banished the stress and depression weighing on her. Aerdwyn had felt like she had fallen out with the gods of her people. Now, she had a new god to worship, one who encouraged loosening inhibitions instead of abstinence.

It didn’t change anything **.**

She was still a hero on a mission, one who—instead of going to the temple and pray—preferred more… tangible methods of devotion.

***

The numerous clicks of opening locks echoed in the Ratway Warrens. The suspicious Blade chronicler had been difficult to convince, but the words Delphine had suggested Aerdwyn use had done the trick.

_Let’s hope he’s not a cannibal_ , she joked, referring to the mad chef who had attacked her with an axe.

When the sturdy door was finally opened **,** the Bosmer was greeted by an elderly Nord.

“Come in, come in!” he urged her hastily and closed the door as soon as she walked in. “Make yourself at home.”

The room was of a quality one might expect to find in the Warrens, and it was full of rugged furniture, but it was mostly tidy and almost liveable.

“So, Delphine keeps up the fight, after all these years”, Esbern said, still eyeing his guest suspiciously.

“She does”, Aerdwyn concurred while her gaze lingered on a spot of mould on the wall. “We need your expertise in our fight against Alduin.”

“So, the World-Eater has returned, just like the prophecy said. Then the fight is truly hopeless.”

“It’s not”, the Nord’s words were countered sharply both by words and by a stare. “My destiny is to defeat the Black Dragon **.**

“’Your destiny’?” Esbern’s eyebrows curved in surprise. “That would mean that you’re… can it really be true? Dragonborn?”

“So the Greybeards and everyone else keep telling me.”

“Then… there is hope! The gods haven’t abandoned us! We must… we must…”

“All in good time because we must go, _now_ ”, a ferocious knock on the door told the two that the Thalmor had found them. “Pack your things. I’ve got some high elves to attend to…”

***

Cloudless night sky allowed the moons and stars to light the travellers’ way to Riverwood. Delphine was already anxiously waiting for them at the Sleeping Giant Inn, and she wasted no time leading them to her secret room so they might have a conversation in peace. The Breton closed the cabinet’s doors and fake back before following the Dragonborn and the older Blade.

“Now then”, she began as she approached them, “Esbern, my friend, I assume you know about…

“About the Dragonborn?” the Nord folded his arms across his chest. “Indeed, yes. However, I question whether she’s more of a liability than an asset to the mission.”

“Excuse me?” Aerdwyn’s face nearly dropped, her gaze jumping between the two Blades. “In the Warrens, you though I was the world’s only hope and now you **—** what? Just change your mind?”

“Esbern, what…” Delphine tried to ask, looking as dumbfounded as she did.

“The Dragonborn is talented, of that, I’m sure. But what she carries… I saw you summoning a Dremora when we escaped the Ratway. That is the Sanguine Rose, isn’t it?”

Aerdwyn turned her head **,** catching a glimpse of the staff.

“What does it have to do with what we’re doing now?” she narrowed her eyes at the Nord.

“Many have carried the Rose before you, but rarely does the Lord of Hedonism show any interest to them beyond that.”

Delphine peered at the Dragonborn for a moment and then glanced at Esbern.

“What do you mean?” perplexity made her frown **.** “She seems normal to me.”

“That sash…” the Nord pointed towards the red cloth Aerdwyn wore around her waist.

“Its colour is similar to that of a rare plant’s that grows only in Oblivion.”

Laughter burst out of the Bosmer’s mouth, and by the time it ended, she was holding her left arm on her sore stomach. The old man couldn’t know _that_ much. To determine a colour’s origin by just looking at it? That’s, that’s…

“…that’s absurd”, the Dragonborn was out of breath and still giggling a bit.

“Is it truly?” Esbern placed a book on the nearby table and turned to look at her sternly like a teacher scolding a student. 

“Esbern”, the younger Blade tried to reason with him, “it’s just a piece of cloth.”

“I’m sorry, Delphine, but if I’m right…”

“ _Stop it_!” Aerdwyn snapped. “I don’t use skooma, I rarely drink myself to a stupor, and I haven’t had a sexual relationship in ages.”

_Well, with a mortal anyway._

Both of the Blades appeared stupefied, and they stood completely still before their shoulders slumped in embarrassment **.**

“I couldn’t have made it this far in my investigations without your help, Dragonborn”, Delphine clenched her right into a fist and placed it over her heart with a nod. “You have my trust.”

“I appreciate your… honesty”, Esbern straightened himself. “I’m sorry for questioning your reliability.”

Aerdwyn sighed and rubbed her forehead with her left thumb and index finger. In moments like these, she wouldn’t mind being locked up in Oblivion.

“Thank you”, she finally said **.** “Where do we start?”

With all the suspicions banished, at least for the time being, Esbern summarized his plan to the others. They were headed to the western parts of Skyrim, to a cave near the city of Markarth. If they found their way through it, they should end up inside an ancient Akaviri temple which contained a mural known as Alduin’s Wall. Sounded easy enough, maybe _too_ easy, but at least they wouldn’t need to fight the Thalmor or dragons this time. The three agreed to meet by the river near Karthspire. Delphine and Esbern would travel there directly while Aerdwyn would make a minor side trip to Markarth to leave her horse at the stables. If the rest of their journey would go as well as it started on the Bosmer’s behalf, however, they would probably get eaten by a gigantic, berserk bear.

While walking through the inn’s main hall, Aerdwyn overheard a local drunk talking to the bartender.

_What the…?_ she froze and glanced over her shoulder, looking like she had just been slapped by a troll and told to behave.

“The bard had sworn it to the Divines that she had just sat there, all naked and bare”, the burly Nord slurred.

“And you believe it?” Orgnar sounded doubtful and kept sweeping breadcrumbs off the counter.

“Of course! I wish I had been there to witness it myself. Think of it, the Dragonborn nude.”

The other Nord shook his head and gave a laugh.

“Dream on, Embry.”

Even if the bartender didn’t buy the drunk’s tale, it would be undesirable if it spread around the whole village in one night **.** The rumour wouldn’t stop there **,** but hopefully, it could be slowed down. The brown-haired Nord kept arguing about what had happened at the Bannered Mare, and he didn’t realise that another customer had appeared beside him **.** Aerdwyn reached for a bottle of ale on her own, placed two coins on the counter, and then presented the cheap brew to Embry.

“Here you go, my good fellow”, she smiled amicably and patted his left shoulder once. “An ale to help you through the evening.”

“Well, I’ll be!” the man rejoiced. “I was just about to order another pint. You were sent by the gods!”

“Sure I was. Say, if I pay your drinks for the night, would that make you forget the Dragonborn thing I happened to overhear?”

“Drinks for the whole night? Are you serious?”

A small cloth pouch was brought forth from the leather bag on the Bosmer’s waist and placed on the table.

“Of course”, she glanced at the bartender with her smile turning into a slight grimace. “The whole night.”

Unlike his drunken countryman, Orgnar recognized her and nodded in understanding. Undoubtedly, that also made him wonder whether the rumour was true.

“Haha!” Embry’s laughter rumbled around the inn. “Keep the ale coming, Orgnar. I’m drinking well tonight!”

_That’s right, my dear fellow. Drink yourself to Oblivion. Literally._

Leaving the counter behind her, Aerdwyn was inclined to staring the floor planks **.** The burn of shame began to tingle her cheeks, and she had to muster her will to keep herself walking and raise her gaze towards the door. Instead of leaving the inn without her, Delphine and Esbern had stayed to see what had made her turn around. The wood elf’s embarrassment took a turn towards irritation when the possibility of being interrogated again hit her. Her black hair flew behind her while she marched towards the two Blades expressionlessly.

“Could you expl…?” Esbern’s endless curiosity was silenced by a murderous glance.

“ _No_ ”, Aerdwyn hissed. “Let’s go.”


	9. The Prince of Domination

_Blood and silver are what flows through Markarth, friend._

That’s what one of the locals had said about the city. He had referred to the notorious Cindha Mine which also served as a prison. Should one end up in there, there were only two ways to get out: to toil or to die. If that wasn’t enough to give the city a dubious reputation, there were also the Forsworn. The first time Aerdwyn had visited the City of Stone, she had witnessed an attack during which a Forsworn had killed a woman. The city guard had done their best to disperse the crowd and act as the whole incident hadn’t even happened **,** but one of the citizens had thought differently. He had even asked Aerdwyn to help him investigate the murder, but she had turned him down. A secret war inside a city was something she hadn’t wanted to get involved in back then. Maybe if the problem still existed after the whole dragon business was over, and she had gotten a good rest…

Yes, perhaps then. 

***

The low, wooden gate was opened, allowing the dappled grey steed to join the other horses on the pasture. Aerdwyn couldn’t help chuckling when she saw how eager Baune was to make acquaintance with one pinto mare. She held his bridle a moment before handing it over to the stable owner.

“Here you go. I’ll pay you fifty coins now and fifty once I return”, she told the Breton.

“I guess that’s acceptable”, the man shrugged as if he had agreed to too cheap a price. “I promise that your horse is in good hands.”

_And hooves_ ¸ the Bosmer laughed to herself after glancing towards the pasture once more.

Apparently, the mare was as fond of Baune as he was of her.

“I’ll return as soon as I can. Probably…”

“Excuse me?”

The man seemed like some kind of a monk. He wore light-coloured robes and a leather hood. Aerdwyn recognized the amulet of Stendarr around his neck. Small, horizontal wrinkles formed on her forehead. 

_A Vigilant? Here?_

The stable owner didn’t seem pleased in the least for the interruption.

“Do you know anything about the empty house near the market place?” the stranger inquired. “Everyone claims it’s abandoned.”

“Then it’s abandoned”, the Breton grunted. 

“Why do you ask?” Aerdwyn hid her personal interests behind a more pleasant tone.

“I’m with the Vigil of Stendarr. We believe the house in question might have been used for Daedra worship. Evil rites and so forth.”

It was unlikely that he was speaking of the Lord of Debauchery, but it was still a possibility the young wood elf just couldn’t ignore.

She hesitated.

The others were waiting for her somewhere near Karthspire, but still…

“Do you need any help?” she offered quickly because she felt the need to be sure.

“That’s very noble of you, and I welcome the help”, the Vigilant’s smile was somewhat rigid. “It’s good to have someone watch my back.”

Aerdwyn returned his gesture with a hum and turned to pay the stable owner before joining the Vigilant on his way back to the city. What she feared was unlikely, but it was better to be safe than sorry, right?

***

Strange. The house was supposed to be abandoned, but there were no visible signs to prove it. There was food, _fresh_ food, no stuffy air, no spider web—everything was so… clean.

“Someone’s been living here”, Aerdwyn noted.

“Indeed”, the Vigilant concurred, “and yet the people said that no-one ever enters or leaves the house.”

“Perhaps there’s a hidden passage somewhere”, the Bosmer began to search for clues when she heard an eerie sound, and it didn’t go unnoticed by her temporary ally either.

“Did you hear that?” he lowered his voice. “I think it came this way.”

The two ran towards the only doorway inside the house **,** and the sound they had heard earlier became louder.

“That’s it”, the Vigilant muttered to himself. “Something’s inside the house. Come, we’re getting to the bottom of this.”

The worshipper and the hunter proceeded to investigate the house, the latter of which hurled insults at its unknown inhabitant. The slander went unanswered, and they continued further until they encountered yet another pair of old metal doors.

This time, they were locked.

_Odd,_ Aerdwyn traced the seam between them **.** _Maybe there’s a separate mechanism somewhere?_

Her ponderings were interrupted when something startled the Vigilant.

“Stendarr’s Mercy! This isn’t an ordinary Daedra”, he cried out nervously, his heart obviously racing. “We have to get help!”

The Bosmer turned to look behind her, but she saw only the flickering flames of the candles **.** The Vigilant had already taken flight, leaving her alone amidst the strange, thickening mist. It wasn’t similar to the one she had seen in Sanguine’s realm, and an ominous feeling chilled her.

_It isn’t Sanguine_ ¸ she thought in relief, but also gazing warily around at the same time.

If not him, then who?

The air inside the house began to feel heavy. It was like a toxic cloud that blurred one’s vision and made breathing difficult.

“Mortals. So weak”, a cold voice full of malice echoed from the walls as a faint whisper. 

“Who are you?” Aerdwyn asked in defiance of all the tricks the master of the house played on his guests.

“I’m the Harvester of Souls, the one you should fear.”

“I’ve no time for games, ‘Harvester’. Or maybe you’re just stalling because you’re afraid of _me_?”

Sinister laughter filled the corridor.

“You’re unlike the others. You’re strong. With a champion like you, my altar could be restored to splendour.”

“I’m not a champion to your kind”, Aerdwyn slipped out a stupid lie in case the Vigilant was near, but the Daedra saw right through her.

“Oh, really?” he sneered. “Your brand says otherwise. I can offer you so much more than _he_ does. With my help, you can bring the world to its knees, starting with that pathetic man of Stendarr.”

“You want me to… kill him?”

“Kill him, yes—before he kills you.”

Sneaking through the shrouded silence, the very person the Bosmer had agreed to help tried to attack her. She evaded the incoming blow, and the Vigilant’s mace hit the floor.

“The Daedra has us”, he declared with madness gleaming in his eyes. “It’s you or me!”

_Oh, for the love of_ … Aerdwyn cursed. “He’s playing you, snap out of it!”

Her words fell on deaf ears. Her ally had become her foe who wielded his mace quite nastily. His actions were not deliberate, however, and she caught him easily off guard. To kill him would be just what the Daedra wanted, so she used only part of the very first Shout she had learned in full.

“ _Fus Ro_!” her Voice sent the Vigilant flying to the other end of the corridor.

He dropped his weapon when he hit the wall and slid down along its rough surface. Air escaped his lungs, and he fell unconscious, but he was alive. The wood elf blew stray strands of hair off her face, still staring at the Vigilant to avoid any further surprises.

“I won’t play your games”, she muttered. “I’m leaving.”

The floor started to shake. It was clear that whoever “the Harvester” was, he wasn’t pleased with Aerdwyn’s answer. She pushed stubbornly forward to reach the main entrance even though she had to seek support from the walls to remain standing.

“ _Fool_ ”, the voice was filled with contempt and pride. “You think you can turn your back on me, just like that?”

“I can”, the Bosmer grimaced when a falling candle holder nearly hit her.

The shaking got worse, and only by focusing her gaze on the main door was she able to cross the floor between it and her **.** She wavered for a moment, her limbs dancing on their own along with the quakes. Her eyebrows joined in a determinate frown, two hazel eyes gleaming below them like coals in the dark. She inhaled and let her thundering Voice challenge the house’s rumble.

Nothing happened.

Aerdwyn’s face dropped slowly. She blinked in disbelief and used the Unrelenting Force again, but the door stayed shut. A manic chuckle filled the house.

“Did you think Molag Bal, the Lord of Domination, would so easily let you go?” the Daedra said with sadistic mirth. “I’m going to take you from that pathetic, drunken fool by having you myself, and… _What_?”

“Oh, am I interrupting something? Sorry”, his grandiloquent speech was cut off by an unknown voice.

It was light-hearted, but not Sanguine’s. It sounded gravelly as if the speaker had downed a bottle of strong alcohol on a daily basis, and its pitch changed in the middle of a sentence.

**_Another_** _Daedra_? Aerdwyn groaned to herself while the floor’s shaking forced her to back against the wall.

“Go away, you twisted fool”, Molag Bal hissed in rage. “She’s m _ine.”_

“Maybe you’re right, my apologies. No, wait! She’s got the rose, just above her nose.”

“Get out, or I’ll…”

“You take so much to heart, Molag. You should relax. Or just shut up. I’d prefer if you’d shut up”, the intruder muttered. “But onto the task at hand! Let me just put this here, and… By my pants, that’s hideous. Oh well. Let’s free the little rabbit from its cage.”

The Bosmer’s pulse began to race. She had faced dragons, trolls and giants without fear, but the thought of being left trapped within this house of horrors disturbed her greatly. Whoever the mysterious character was, he had hinted that he’d get her out of here, and she hoped it was true. She stared at the last obstacle between her and freedom, waiting for it to open, and in a way, it did. Her eyes widened when the metal started to turn yellowish.

_Is that… cheese?_ Aerdwyn couldn’t believe her eyes when the stench of the extra mature dairy product filled the room, but she got a hold herself to use the Voice once more.

“ ** _Fus Ro dah_**!” she put all her strength to the Shout, and the wall of cheese crumbled before it.

“Now that’s what I’d call having a blast. Literally”, her rescuer mused.

“ ** _No_! **You insufferable, half-minded…” Molag Bal cursed the one who had foiled his plans, but his intended victim had already scrambled outside.

The people of Markarth were probably already well on their way to investigate the racket and discover that the street was filled with cheese, and the relieved Dragonborn wasn’t going to stay and explain to them how a Daedric Lord had tried to imprison her.

There were more important things waiting for her in Karthspire. 


	10. Of ancient tales and Elder Scrolls

Dragons and heroes clashed on the Akaviri mural, leaving the three onlookers in awe **.** Only one of them was able to interpret the prophecy it withheld, however, and he had just gotten to its most curious part: the one that told them how to proceed.

“You mean they used a _Shout_ to defeat Alduin?” Delphine did her best to retain her matter-of-fact attitude, but the deepening wrinkles on her forehead betrayed her astonishment. 

Esbern glanced absentmindedly over his shoulder, taken away by the beauty of Alduin’s Wall. 

“Oh, yes”, he concurred. “Presumably something rather specific to dragons, or even Alduin himself.”

“So, that’s why you need me”, Aerdwyn noted with a huff.

“If we are to put our hope in one person, then yes. But we have no way of knowing what Shout the heroes of old used.”

_Wonderful._

Every time the Dragonborn’s quest to rid the world of Alduin seemed to progress well, it also suffered an immediate setback. Now she knew how to defeat the dragon, but the Shout she needed was probably long forgotten.

 _Cursed, flying lizard_ , _you always seem to have luck on your side._

Irritation roiled inside Aerdwyn who was inclined to sit down and give up. She was already feeling edgy because of her encounter with Molag Bal and all the wonderful calamities she and others had fought to get to the temple. 

“Have you ever heard of such a thing?” Delphine’s question awakened her from her depressive thoughts.

“No”, she shook her head. “I’m sorry. But what about the ones who taught me? The Greybeards?”

“You’re probably right. I was hoping to avoid having to involve them in this, but it seems we have no choice.”

“So, you dislike the Greybeards, what a… Uhm...” a pale palm rose to cover the Bosmer’s closed eyes. “I apologize. I visited a house before I joined you, and I found… Never mind.”

“I take it was pretty harrowing if it disturbed you”, the younger Blade noted with a hint of compassion in her voice. “There’s a heavy burden on your shoulders.”

“But if you shrank from your destiny, the world would have no hope left in it”, Esbern spoke up unexpectedly, his torch’s light turning towards the wood elf and the Breton. “All heroes must first learn to use their power and get rid of the fear of what might go wrong.”

“Or they’ll end up like the Greybeards up on their mountain, doing nothing when they could help”, Delphine added.

Aerdwyn’s gaze moved between them as she weighed her options. She would be a fool to give up after coming this far.

*sigh*

“I’d better go see what Arngeir knows about this Shout, then”, she glanced at the Rose resting against the wall beside her.

“Right. We’ll establish a new hideout here”, the Breton’s practical attitude showed in her words while Esbern’s showed in his.

“And see what else the old Blades might have left for us”, the elderly Nord’s attention was whisked away by the mural again. 

“And that, of course. Make haste, Dragonborn. Talos guard you.”

***

As much as the Blades seemed to despise the Greybeards, the feeling was mutual. Upon hearing how she had first learned of the Shout she needed, Arngeir had accused the young Dragonborn of acting as their puppet. It had taken some time for him to be convinced that the Shout, “Dragonrend”, was direly needed if there was any chance to be had against the black dragon. Eventually, the old master of the Voice revealed that he didn’t know it himself, but he agreed to arrange for Aerdwyn to meet someone who could help her in the matter. She was to travel up the mountain to the Throat of the World where the order’s leader resided. In order for her to get there, the Greybeards taught her a new Shout to clear the hazardous fog filling the path. The trek was heavy due to the snow, and Aerdwyn was freezing despite the wolf pelt she had bought in Ivarstead before climbing to the mountains.

Those blasted ice wraiths she encountered on the way didn’t make her trip any easier.

When she finally reached the top, she saw no-one. There was no house, no camp… nothing. There was an inhabitant on the top, however, the one whose roar now pierced the sky itself.

_What the…?_

The dragon landed rather gracefully for such a large creature. Nonetheless, the impact tipped the Bosmer off balance, and she dropped to sit on the soft snow. She groped desperately for her weapons, startled by the brown beast eyeing her with curiosity.

 _It doesn’t attack?_ her instinct to protect herself faded gradually, and she let go of the stalk of the Sanguine Rose she had managed to grab first.

“Drem Yol Lok. Greetings, wunduniik”, the dragon’s guttural voice rumbled across the white field. “I am Paarthurnax.”

“You... You’re the leader of the Greybeards?” Aerdwyn squinted her eyes as she rose slowly back to her feet.

“They see me as master, yes. But who are you? What brings you to my strunmah… my mountain?”

“Arngeir sent me. My name is Aerdwyn Nightlock, and I’m the Dragonborn.”

“Ah, Dovahkiin, I see. But tell me, volaan, why did he send you to intrude my meditation?” the dragon crawled closer, turning his neck as he inspected his unexpected guest.

“I seek a way to defeat Alduin”, Aerdwyn finally straightened herself, staring unflinchingly at Paarthurnax. “I need to learn the Dragonrend Shout. Arngeir said you could teach me.”

“Drem. Patience. There are formalities which must be observed at the first meeting of two of the dov.”

“Formalities? But I’m not a dragon.”

“If you truly are Dovahkiin, you are bound to honour the tradition. Hear my Thu’um! Feel it in your bones and match it.”

Aerdwyn flinched, sure that Paarthurnax was about to hurl a Shout at her, but instead, he turned toward something that resembled the Word Walls she had seen in several old ruins **.** A gout of fire burst from his maw, leaving a new Word for her to be learned as a result.

“Now, greet me not as a mortal, but as a dovah!” he demanded, and the wood elf obliged **.**

Something resembling a smile crossed the dragon’s jaws.

“Aaah… yes! Sossedov los mul **”,** his voice was a content rumble **.** “The dragon blood runs strong in you. I haven’t had the pleasure of speech with one of my own kind in a long time.”

“Yes, well, I’ve not conversed with a dragon before. Alduin tried to speak to me at Kynesgrove, but I guess that doesn’t count”, Aerdwyn shrugged.

“Alduin, yes. You wouldn’t come all this way for tinvaak with an old dovah. No. You seek your weapon against him.

 ** _As_** _I said before… Damn, must I explain it all again?_ the Bosmer wrapped the wolf pelt more tightly around her shoulders.

“So, can you teach me the Shout I need?” she tried to stay patient.

“Krosis”, the dragon’s tone was lower than it had been so far. “Sorrowfully, no. It cannot be known to me. Mortals created it as a weapon against the dov. Our hadrimme, our minds cannot even… comprehend its concept.”

By the time Paarthurnax finished his sentence, the Bosmer was staring at him aghast **.** The right corner of her mouth twitched as if she had been holding back a laugh.

“Are you saying I came up here for nothing?” she blurted in frustration.

“Drem”, the dragon told her. “All in good time. First, a question for you. Why do you want to learn this Thu’um?”

“ _By Y’ffre and all that’s green_ ”, the reply began as a disgruntled mutter. “I need to stop Alduin!”

“Yes. Alduin… zeymah. The elder brother. But why? Why must you stop him?”

“Because I have divine bad luck, that’s why! I came to Skyrim only to find out that I’m some kind of a dragon-blooded mongrel and now everyone’s telling me what to do and think. I just… I want all this to be over so I can finally rest.”

“I see. I’m countless years older than you, and yet I see tiredness beyond comprehension. But be warned, Dovahkiin, Alduin is no fool. Ni mey, rinik gut nol. Far from it. He began as the wisest and most far-seeing of us all.”

“Be that as it may, he threatens the world, and I’d prefer he didn’t destroy it.”

“I agree. Now, in thanks for indulging my weakness for speech longer than intended, I shall answer your question.”

 _Finally_ , the Bosmer’s shoulders slumped, and she tilted her head lazily to the left.

“Thank you.”

Unluckily for Aerdwyn, Paarthurnax’s speech was actually far from over because the answer turned out to be an entire tale about how the ancient Tongues had originally sent Alduin forward in time. Thanks to their efforts, that black bastard was now her headache. In order to find out a more permanent solution to get rid of him, she needed to find an actual Elder Scroll, but neither Paarthurnax nor Arngeir knew where the particular one lied **.** Much to her dismay, Aerdwyn knew that the climate would get much colder in the days to come. She needed to seek the arcane knowledge, and there was only one place in Skyrim where she could find it for sure: Winterhold.


	11. Between the bookshelves

It often snowed in Winterhold, and the day the Dragonborn arrived there was no exception. The city itself was so small it didn’t even have its own stables, so Aerdwyn paid to the innkeeper of the Frozen Hearth to take care of Baune and keep him fed while she was away **.** The College was easy to find, but gaining access? Not so. The bridge was guarded by a rather irritable—and stubborn—Altmer who insisted that she wouldn’t let her enter if she didn’t show any magical talent. Aerdwyn was tired because she hadn’t had time to get a good night’s sleep, and she felt a nearly irresistible urge to shout the high elf off the bridge, but how would that look like? She chose to explain why she sought to enter the College instead, and in the end, a small demonstration of the Voice was enough. The other elf agreed to escort her across the long bridge and open the gates for her, and the future seemed a little brighter again. She’d spent the next hour or so in the mages’ library and probably have a nap.

No, not probably.

She’d _definitely_ have a nap, at least a short one, or attempting to read anything would be for nought. 

The library, or the Arcaneum as it was called, was situated upstairs. It was supervised by an old orc who was even more intractable than the Altmer Aerdwyn had met earlier. After entering the hall filled with bookshelves, she had sought a quiet spot to rest her eyes, but she had barely had time to close them when the orc had appeared to ask what she wanted. 

For him, ‘to sleep’ had been a wrong answer.

“This is a library, not the dormitory”, he had lectured the Bosmer before repeating his original question.

Thus, she had stated what she wanted and ended up with “Rumination on the Elder Scrolls” she was now reading.

It was all gibberish.

_“Each of our minds is actually the emptiness”. What does that even mean?_ Aerdwyn was ready to toss the book on the floor, but the orc wouldn’t have probably liked that, so she abstained from doing so. The desire was still there by the time she finished reading the text, though.

_Where’s that geezer when you need him_? 

She bet Esbern could have explained Signus’ ramblings to her with just a short look at them. She laid her eyes on the first page and tried to start again. She didn’t get any further than the halfway of the second sentence.

_Ugh._

Slow, restless steps moved from one side of the library to the other. There was a weary shine in the Bosmer’s two round eyes. The stress mounting on her was growing to an unbearable extent. Should she try to figure Signus’ writings out on her own or ask whether she could borrow the book?

_“Where are you taking it?”_ she pictured the conversation in her mind. _“Oh, nowhere. Just to a lost temple for a Blade who could explain it to me. No big deal, really.”_

Oh, no, that wouldn’t happen even if the two moons fell from the sky.

_So, I must figure this on my own, I guess, and… Wait. Is that…?_ Aerdwyn stopped by a column and held back a gasp.

“ _What are you doing here_?” her whisper was a hissing mix of delight and surprise.

Sam smirked at her from beneath his black hood when she circled to sit on the other side of the round table.

“Why do people generally come to places like these?” he opened the cork of the nearest wine bottle and poured himself a mug.

“To seek something they don’t actually want to know”, Aerdwyn referred to her current problem.

“Really? What is that you seek but don’t want to know?”

“This goddam mess of a book is supposed to help me find something I direly need.”

“Oh, put that down”, he told her, and she obeyed gladly. “Now, tell me what are you searching for?”

“An Elder Scroll”, Aerdwyn replied in an undertone.

“Quite the task even for you, my vixen”, the disguised Prince poured another mug and offered it to her.

One particular choice of words caught the Dragonborn’s attention while she accepted the wine.

“’Your’ vixen, my Lord?” she asked, glancing at him from beneath her brow.

“You bear my mark”, he grinned into his mug. “It kinda makes you mine, doesn’t it?”

Warmth rippled through the Bosmer’s lean body. She remembered well how she had pledged herself to Sanguine that night in Riften. He had called her “his chosen” before, but to call her “his vixen” had a different echo to it. It made her wonder about how many of his followers did he call with similar names.

And what about the mark? Did every follower have it, or just her?

“What’s with the bashfulness?” Sam asked all of a sudden.

“’Bashf…?” Aerdwyn’s black hair covered part of her pale face when she realised that she was blushing. “I apologize. I was… thinking about something.”

“Hmm?” the Breton quirked an eyebrow. “Tell me.”

“It’s a silly thing, really, Mortals have this thing, courting, and I wondered, um—it’s unimportant.”

A suppressed chuckle danced around the Arcaneum.

“You’re asking whether we’re dating, is that it?” Sam’s brown gaze caught that of the Bosmer’s.

She didn’t even dare to nod.

“Well, I guess it’s closer to betrothal, but if that’s how you like to see it, go ahead.”

Even if the pair’s conversation was kept discreet otherwise, one thing Aerdwyn couldn’t silence was the choking cough caused by the excess amount of wine she accidentally swallowed. The grey-haired librarian peeked from his seat towards the inconvenient “racket” but dismissed it when it didn’t continue. Meanwhile, another chuckle surrounded the small table **.**

“That’s a priceless face you’ve got right now, sweet thing”, Sam said, his voice still vibrating with laughter. “We’re not betrothed.”

“Good—I mean… I wouldn’t mind, of course, but you are… and I am…”

“Yes, I know. Relax, and tell me again why you’re here.”

“That book is supposed to tell me where to find the Scroll I need, but it’s just full of nonsense”, Aerdwyn explained after clearing her throat.

“Perhaps the author could help?”

“I don’t know if he’s even alive anymore.”

“Then find out whether it’s a house or a grave you’re looking for”, Sam spread his arms carefreely. “If the poor sod is in Oblivion, I can help with that.”

His extravagant gesturing had Aerdwyn tittering.

“I’d appreciate that.”

“See? There’s no problem where you picture one in, not when I’m around.”

“Oh, I doubt that”, the wood elf gave a small laugh for she knew that Sanguine was more than a heap of trouble himself. “Anyway, I’m quite sure _you_ haven’t told me why you’re here.”

“Why, I’m here particularly for you, my chosen one”, his reply was straightforward.

“Oh?”

“I came to invite you to a party.”

Aerdwyn’s heart leapt when the Breton downed his mug of wine and stood up, offering her his hand.

“Where is this party?” she placed her hand unhesitatingly on his.

“You’ll see”, he smirked while the shimmering glow of a portal appeared behind him. ”It’s a very special party.”


	12. The Sanctum

The place resembled the Misty Grove in many aspects. The night sky above was like a pond in which the stars swam. The birch trees reached towards it with their branches while the calming purl of a stream weaved its way between them. The calm of the forest was broken by the various sounds of revelry coming from a nearby glade. The jolly tunes of a flute encouraged the people to dance, and there were enough food and drink to sate the needs of hundreds. When it came to carnal pleasures, however, the scenery was unexpectedly lacking. That’s to say: there was nothing to see. 

In the centre of the glade, there was a canopy bathing in different shades of red. A portal appeared in front of it, and Sanguine escorted Aerdwyn out from amidst its blue swirls. She got only a moment to look around before being led below the extravagant cloths, but she quickly understood that they were not on the Nirn anymore. The glade was filled with mixed groups of Daedra and mortals of nearly every race enjoying the decadent delights it had to offer. The Dragonborn could swear she saw a female Nord holding a whole keg of ale and drinking straight from it. Focusing her gaze forward again, she saw a pile of lavish, bloodred cushions piled on a large rug. There were two Dremoras standing guard by the canopy’s entrance for some reason. Aerdwyn wasn’t given a chance to wonder about it, though **,** when Sanguine disarmed her and drew her onto the cushions with him.

“What do you think of my Sanctum, little temptress?” he asked while he conjured a bottle of alcohol.

“It’s amazing like you are, my Prince”, the elf sighed blissfully.

“That’s unusually blatant flattery from you”, the Daedra chuckled, pouring her a mug of wine **.**

“If it displeases you, I shall stop.” 

Aerdwyn wasn’t the uptight hero who had entered the portal in the Arcaneum. She had a wide, mischievous smirk on her lips when she sat up to drink. She felt utterly relaxed. Her mind was free of earthly worries as her body was of sores. When her gaze met Sanguine’s, however, she realised that he didn’t share her state of mind at the moment. Her smirk faded, and small wrinkles appeared between her brows.

“Is something wrong?”

“Hmm”, Sanguine took a long sip from the wine bottle. “To be completely honest, there’s something that displeased me some days ago, something you did.”

The Bosmer blinked and averted her gaze pensively. What had she done to make her Lord say that? She hadn’t done anything, but…

 _Is this about that house?_ she wondered while Sanguine caught her gaze by bringing his face close to hers.

“You met Molag Bal, didn’t you?”

The Sanctum brought instant relief to stress just like the Misty Grove, but a shiver still managed to run over Aerdwyn’s skin like a torrent of little needles. It brought back the memory of being helpless and trapped **.** She didn’t even remember when she had last felt so terrified, and she shuddered at the mere thought of it.

“Why did you go into that house?” a warm hand cupped her left cheek.

“I—“ Aerdwyn held a pause to prevent herself from stammering. “I met a Vigilant outside Markarth, a Daedra hunter. He asked for help to confirm his suspicions of Daedra worship, and I was afraid that he might be after you.”

“Silly thing, what made you think that?” the hand caressed her skin.

“I…”

 _I don’t know_.

The Bosmer wasn’t sure how to answer the question. She had just…

“I made an assumption”, she then said and tried to lower her gaze, but found it impossible to part it from its captivating pair **.** “Forgive my ill-considered actions.”

“Even if it had been my shrine, a Vigilant could have hardly done anything to it—or to me. But you… you were in great danger, my chosen. The Prince of Domination is not to be trifled with. Hadn’t the Mad God intervened, he would have tried to claim you from me.”

There was only one Daedric Prince who was officially part of the Bosmeri pantheon, and that was Hermaeus Mora. Other cults were rare in Valenwood. Aerdwyn didn’t even know the other Princes by name nor their domains. At least she hadn’t until she had met Sanguine whose “philosophy” she had embraced. Thus, the only thing she knew about Molag Bal for sure was that he was menacing as hell.

“Why would he want to take me away from you?” Aerdwyn asked innocently, unable to understand what the Lord of Domination could possibly gain from stealing her.

“Besides his passion to dominate all mortals?” Sanguine’s hand slid down her jawline when he turned to drink from the bottle again. “He’s simply jealous. He probably intended to rape you to make you his.”

The wood elf’s lips turned into a wry grimace.

“What about this ‘Mad God’ who rescued me?” her gratitude towards her rescuer grew with the knowledge of what might have happened.

“Sheogorath? Oh, he’s a jolly fellow—much jollier than he used to be”, Sanguine chuckled. “But for mortals, his influence is—well, I guess the nickname says it all. If you let him mess with your mind, you’ll probably end up riding a sheep in your underwear thinking it prevents the two moons from falling on you. Something like that.”

“Compared to what I went through after our drinking contest, I’m not sure which one to choose.”

The chuckle turned into a hearty burst of laughter.

“A fair point. But make no mistake, vixen. Sheogorath is highly unpredictable, and he may go after you just like Molag.”

_“Just like”? Is there no Daedric Prince who **doesn’t** want to possess me at the moment? _

Even though the Bosmer’s frustration didn’t show, it didn’t go unnoticed by the ruler of the Myriad Realms of Revelry. He ran his fingers through the length of her hair, breaking their eye contact so that she dared to drink the last of the spicy, velvety liquid in her mug. An ebony hand rose to take it away shortly afterwards, but not to fill it. The mug glowed blue, and in a moment, disappeared. Same happened to the nearly empty bottle of wine which was now lost somewhere in Oblivion.

“Most of my kind are very competitive and possessive by nature, and their goal is to amass followers to increase their own power. It’s only normal”, it felt like Sanguine had read Aerdwyn’s thoughts, and who knows, maybe he had.

It was certain, however, that his words raised questions.

The delicate elven chin inched towards the Daedric Prince but turned back quickly. Aerdwyn hesitated to speak her mind because she wasn’t sure whether she wanted to hear the answer. This was one of the moments when the line between feelings and worship felt blurry. She should know better than to expect true affection from an immortal being, but deep down, she couldn’t help feeling that she’d wither without Sanguine. But was it affection from her side or—as she failed to even think of—addiction?

“Ask your question, vixen”, the singsong tone bewitched her the moment she heard her Lord’s voice. “I see it’s troubling you.”

Aerdwyn bowed her head slightly, her cheeks tingling with embarrassment **.**

“You describe what your kind is like, and I can’t stop myself from thinking whether I’m just another follower to you”, she uttered the last part of her confession carefully.

A smirk stretched across Sanguine’s dark lips as he hummed.

“I care for my followers more than some of us do, but this…” he pressed his right index finger on her forehead. “ _This_ I don’t grant to just anyone who enters my realm and enjoys its offerings.”

A fuzzy feeling unravelled within her upon his touch.

“You carry my Rose”, Sanguine continued as he stroked her hair, “and you’re here with me. Is that enough for you?”

“I wish that Alduin was no more, and I would be no longer needed”, the wood elf pressed her forehead against his and let out a feverish sigh **.** “I wish I could stay.” 

“Is that what you truly want, little Dragonborn?”

“Yes.”

The Daedra hummed again, sounding content.

“I heard a song in this tavern… Oh, where was it?” he changed the subject suddenly. “Doesn’t matter. The lyrics, to my recollection, were… interesting.”

Aerdwyn cocked her head coyly with a hunger waking inside her.

“What did they say?” she asked.

“I don’t remember the words well except for the part in which the bard sang ‘the Dragonborn comes’.”

Uncontrollable laughter escaped the canopy and spread around it. The red cushions shifted under the Bosmer who had fallen slack on them with her body now twisting and her breath nearly failing. The joke had been so bad and brilliant at the same time that she couldn’t hold back. Her Prince watched her squirm beneath his black gaze.

“ _Krhm_ ”, Aerdwyn cleared her throat when she calmed down, though a stupid grin still lingered on her lips. “I’m sorry, my Lord, but is that what you intend to have me do?”

“Of course, vixen”, he supported himself on his left arm. “You see, the parties in my Sanctum are special. They always end in… intimate encounters.”

His strong form hovered over the wood elf with his long, black hair sweeping the tacky surface of her leather armour. 

“Can’t that be said of all your parties?”

“It can’t, actually. Surprising, I know. But tell me, my gorgeous chosen, have you ever attended an orgy before?”

“Can’t say I have”, Aerdwyn replied in a wanton tone.

She might have frowned on such a suggestion before, but now, she couldn’t wait. He leant closer to her, raising his right hand and snapping his fingers.

“Then it will truly be an exceptional party.”

The simple gesture of the Daedric Prince of Debauchery set the party truly in motion, and sounds of passion suddenly filled the glade. Curiosity incited Aerdwyn to glance around although the cloths covering the canopy revealed only a little. Her hazel gaze eventually turned towards Sanguine who lowered himself even closer. His lips descended on her neck, and before the searing ecstasy of his touch swept the Bosmer away, she realised that the two guards were closing on them with their bodies bare.

This was going to be, as said, a very special party.


	13. In seek of knowledge

Baune flicked his tail lazily while walking across the snowy plain. The rider swayed uncomfortably on the saddle, feeling sore in the groin despite the healing potion she had downed before leaving Winterhold. She didn’t know for sure, but she could swear that she had bruises all over her body. She hadn’t been beaten up or anything. The party had simply been too intense to think about minorities. Her lovers had been fierce and lascivious, and all four had shamelessly enjoyed each other’s company even though Aerdwyn had been the only female in the group. She guessed—no, she _knew_ it was to be expected of the very incarnate of debauchery who didn’t sort out who or what brought him pleasure. If he did, he wouldn’t live quite well up to his name, would he? 

Sanguine’s blessing had opened the young Dragonborn’s eyes in a way nothing else could have done. She had been introduced to many new wonderful pleasures last night in the Sanctum, including what it felt like to be penetrated by two men at the same time **.** Her Lord had mostly owned her, but he had also enjoyed sitting back and watch how his guards had eagerly engaged in passionate acts with his chosen. Most people would be shocked if Aerdwyn told them even half of what had occurred. She, on the other hand, was—at ease? Yes, perhaps that was the right way to phrase it. The bliss brought by Sanguine’s touch wasn’t limited to his only anymore, but she still wouldn’t trade it to that of others. It was soothing like a hot bath, and it set one’s senses aflame.

“Rest for a moment now, vixen”, he had said when she had lied on top of him, her body spent. “Soon, you must return to your world to continue your journey.”

She hadn’t said anything, savouring the sound and deep vibration of his voice. When his strong hand had caressed her hair, she had nearly closed her eyes, smiling contently.

“Be strong, my chosen. Perhaps I’m not the right person to speak of patience, but in this case, it shall be rewarded. I could never leave such a unique little thing to be wasted by mortals.”

Aerdwyn had exhaled, nudging her cheek against Sanguine’s bare chest.

“One day”, she had whispered.

“One day”, he had concurred.

_May that day come soon._

***

The complex construct made one final turn before releasing the Elder Scroll. Its reflection gleamed in the eyes of the Bosmer who stepped forth, extending her right hand in awe. The golden Scroll came loose with a faint clink. Aerdwyn held it carefully with both hands as she backed away from the Dwemer machinery. It was eloquently decorated with amethysts, and it felt ancient, powerful…

 _Should I open it?_ the thought was extemporaneous and quickly rejected.

Who knew what would happen to the one who dared to attempt to read the Scroll? No. It would be safer to take it to Paarthurnax. Still, the thought was intriguing. Would the Scroll withhold text? Images? …or something else completely?

The metal bench no-one had sat on since the times of the Dwemer creaked shortly. Aerdwyn had battled countless Falmer and ancient constructs to get here, and she surely deserved a moment’s rest. The view had been nothing to turn one’s nose up at, though. A whole underground city illuminated by strange, glowing plants wasn’t an everyday sight, after all. How could a race capable of building something so magnificent vanish without a trace? And the Falmer, the Snow Elves, how did they become the skulking, blind creatures they were today? One would imagine that they had once been a proud people highly gifted in magic like the Altmer **.** Perhaps the Arcaneum would have some books on the subject if the grumpy librarian allowed Aerdwyn to read them, that is.

The surface of the Scroll steamed briefly when a long sigh landed on it. The wood elf grazed it pensively with her fingertips. Despite her success, something was bothering her. It filled her with emptiness, and for a moment, there was nothing inside her but a steady heartbeat. There was no question that it had something to do with Sanguine and his brand she now carried. Aerdwyn remembered how Esbern had questioned her ability to act, saying that she’d be a liability to the whole mission, and yet here she sat with an Elder Scrolls in her hands. For the first time since leaving Valenwood behind, she felt like she belonged somewhere, but not here **.** Aerdwyn’s life on the Nirn was a constant battle, blood and steel, while Sanguine offered her its exact opposite. He had tried to bewitch her at first, she was quite sure of that now, but what had happened afterwards, had happened with her consent. Her gaze sought the Rose she had set aside before immersing herself in the secrets of the Dwemer puzzle, and a smile appeared on her lips. She hadn’t acknowledged it before, but even though the staff didn’t call the Prince himself, it helped her feel closer to him. That, along with the sash, eased her yearning for him.

But maybe she should continue pondering that on horseback, hmm?

The Bosmer stood up and grabbed the staff. She should stop by in Windhelm to replenish her supplies, but after that, she would return to High Hrothgar.

***

Things had a nasty tendency to take an unexpected turn, and this was one of those times. Aerdwyn visited the local alchemy shop only to find herself broke after having been forced to purchase yet another armour and pair of daggers. She could only afford to buy one minor health potion, and that wouldn’t suffice at all if she was to face Alduin any time soon. But where could she earn more money on such short notice? She didn’t have any extra gear to sell, and she didn’t prefer the idea of risking a jail sentence by stealing. The shopkeepers were sometimes willing to pay for retrieving or delivering goods, but those jobs often took the courier all the way to the other side of Skyrim.

_Hmm._

There was always something going on in the Holds. Maybe the Jarl wanted to get rid of some bandits in a cave nearby? Aerdwyn thought about it for a moment and shrugged.

_Always worth a try._

The echo of footsteps bounced from wall to wall in the silent great hall of the Palace of the Kings. The fact that the burly Nord warrior who usually stood by the Jarl’s side was absent was probably the cause of that. With him around, there was usually no such thing as quiet. It was a shame, actually. The conversations between him and Ulfric always tended to be a blast. Aerdwyn smirked at the thought while she strode across the stone floor until she stood in front of the throne of Windhelm.

“Yes, what is it?” the Jarl asked indignantly without detaching his gaze from the letter he was reading.

“I’ve come to ask you whether you’d have some work for me again, my lord”, Aerdwyn nodded respectfully.

Recognizing her voice, Ulfric turned to look at her as he leant against the left armrest of his throne.

“Ah, it’s you. I appreciate what you have done to aid Windhelm, Dragonborn, but I’m afraid that if you’re not here to join the Stormcloaks, I have no use for your skills at the moment.”

“What about Morvunskar, my Jarl?” Ulfric’s steward, Jorleif, reminded him.

 _Morvunskar?_ the Bosmer barely hid her frown.

“Hmm? Ah, you mean the necromancers.”

 _But… that can’t be. I killed them all_.

“’Necromancers’, my lord?” Aerdwyn asked, retaining a calm voice and a neutral expression.

“One of the city’s hunters saw two of them earlier”, Jorleif explained. “According to him, though, their behaviour was very… disorderly.”

“Meaning they were blind drunk”, Ulfric added before turning to read the letter again. “If you deal with them, we’ll pay you accordingly. Now, off with you. I’ve got work to do.”

The quest the Jarl of Windhelm had had to offer was pretty much what the Dragonborn had expected, but at least it wasn’t entirely ordinary by her standards. Besides, her last visit to the fort had ended rather differently than she would have imagined. She was more than willing to see how things would turn out this time. Maybe she would end up having a drink with necromancers who conjured fluffy, black bunnies out of their pockets—who knows.


	14. A Daedric bacchanal

Upon arriving at Morvunskar, the Dragonborn had found only a cawing murder of crows. The old fort had appeared to be deserted, and the corpses she had left in her wake last time were still there. Not even a skeleton had rattled its bones. Now that Aerdwyn was inside, the situation didn’t seem to change. The foul smell of rotting flesh caught up to her quickly, and she had to improvise a facemask from a piece of cloth she found. Sadly, it didn’t noticeably improve the odour. There were no signs of the necromancers yet, but Aerdwyn proceeded carefully nonetheless. She had nearly been scorched by a fire mage once, and she didn’t feel a pressing need to experience that again. Thus, she held her hands close to her daggers, ready to draw them and make short of any possible attackers, but no matter how deep she descended inside the fort, there still were none. 

_Where are you?_

After a good, long moment, it started to seem that whatever the hunter had seen had been a product of his own imagination. Surrounded by nothing but silence and stuffy air, Aerdwyn relaxed a little. At the same time, however, she felt frustrated. She had come here in hopes of collecting a reward for the necromancers’ heads. How could she do so when there wasn’t even a petty conjurer around to kill? Maybe if she took a bloodied robe from one of the mages, that would suffice as evidence **.** If not, perhaps she should begin to learn alchemy. Aerdwyn dared to laugh aloud at the idea. She knew a thing or two about herbs, but to actually mix potions? Not po…

Manic laughter suddenly covered that of the Bosmer’s. She flinched, stumbling against the wall. Shivers coursed through her, and instinct drove her to arm herself. She crouched and snuck closer to the next staircase. The laughter continued and was soon accompanied by another one.

Aerdwyn recognized the latter immediately.

She sighed, straightened herself again, and lowered her mask to reveal the sarcastic grin on her lips. Her arms swung carefreely while she descended the stairs, still holding the daggers loosely in her hands. The two guffawing “necromancers” sat near the spot where the portal to the Misty Grove had once been. It didn’t take long for the Dragonborn to recognize the other one, too. 

“’I’m Molag Bal, the Lord of Domination’!” the Mad God mimicked the other Prince’s voice. “’I’m cranky and ugly as a bad boot! Someone, call a priest, a healer… _my cat_!”

The Prince of Debauchery slid down in his chair as he laughed.

“That’s a—” he tried to breathe. “A very _accurate_ description, my friend.”

“Is it? It is not. I’d choose another explanation any day.”

The two Daedras wearing torn necromancer robes clinked tankards and poured whatever was left in them down their throats. Sanguine was about to pour them a new pair of drinks before he noticed Aerdwyn who was about to ascend the stairs on top of which the two sat.

“Vixen!” he exclaimed cheerfully, spreading his arms wide. “Have you missed me?”

Sheogorath cackled quietly beside him.

“I’m sure you already know the answer **,** my Prince”, Aerdwyn teased him with a flirtatious smile, “although this time, I came here to investigate the sighting of necromancers. Strangely enough, I seem to have ended up with two Daedras.”

“Lucky you”, Sheogorath said. “A Daedra a day keeps the healer away. Or was it the other way around?”

Sanguine burst to laughter again. The Prince of Debauchery had an exceptional tolerance for alcohol, but this time, he was really _drunk_. Aerdwyn’s smile turned into a small smirk, and she raised her eyebrows when she took the first proper look at her saviour.

“So, you’re the Prince of Madness”, she noted.

“In the flesh more or less grotesque!” the grey-haired, human-like Daedra declared, raising his empty tankard. “How about a mania? No? Oh, I know! Depression! No… _A phobia!_ ” 

“Now, now, just wait a moment my good madman”, Sanguine slurred a bit, shaking his finger at him. “She’s _mine_.”

“Of course, of course. _Hic_. She’s a little bit too sane for my tastes anyway.”

“ _No-one_ is too sane for you.”

“Hahaha! _True_. Or not. It would be impolite to tell. My mind is such a private person.”

Aerdwyn chuckled to herself while the Princes started to snigger frantically. It was evident that there were no rogue mages to be found here, and she would have to find another way to collect the reward. She should probably take something and make haste back to Windhelm, but maybe she could… No, not “maybe” nor “could”—she _wanted_ to stay. The wood elf stepped closer to the occupied chairs.

“It’s a shame really”, she mused. “I was expecting battle when I came here but found a party instead.”

“Such is life”, Sanguine smirked. “Wonderful, isn’t it?”

“It is, my lord. The Jarl shall be direly disappointed, however, if I return empty-handed”, the Bosmer lifted her right-hand dagger and pointed it towards the Princes with a sweeping motion. “So, I shall need two things.”

Intrigue made Sanguine’s black eyes gleam while Sheogorath seemed unable to sit still.

“I shall need those robes of yours”, Aerdwyn threw a dagger at a nearby shelf, “and a drink.”

Another piece of fine craftmanship soon followed the first one and sank into the softened wood.

“Ooh, I like her! What a sharp edge!” Sheogorath approved.

“I think your terms are… agreeable, vixen”, Sanguine leant forward in his chair, smirking.

“I thank you most graciously”, the black-haired elf’s voice turned velvety as she approached him. “Now, please tell me you have some spiced wine in that bottle next to you. It’s my favourite.”

The previously silent fort was silent no more. There were only three revellers, but considering the racket they made, one might have thought there were more **.** Aerdwyn found it a little strange to drink with someone who was supposed to be dangerous to her, but as long as her Prince didn’t mind, neither would she **—** and they had fun together. The Mad God’s speech, she quickly learned, reflected his two sides. The other one was serious and threatening whereas the other, which one was noticeably dominant at the moment, was manic and often made no sense at all. That was what made him unpredictable and dangerous. One of his best weapons was doubt, and he tried to use it against Aerdwyn as well.

“Is it fun? Playing house with each other? Squirrelling away wine and fine cheeses? Ah, pardon me. That was just inside my head”, he attempted to plant a seed of doubt in her mind by hinting that if she thought that she and Sanguine were a pair, it was only a fantasy.

“I’ve never been one to play house with anyone”, the Bosmer replied, but not to confute Sheogorath’s words.

It was simply the truth.

Despite the influence of alcohol, Aerdwyn remembered quite clearly what she had pondered in Blackreach. Sanguine was someone who couldn’t be tied to anyone—well, not entirely at least. It was his very nature to gather as many followers around himself as he could. What was a party without people anyway? Those he deemed worthy enough were given special rewards, such as the Sanguine Rose, and if Esbern was right, a few selected ones were given even more… exclusive prizes. Aerdwyn kept the red sash with her at all times, and even now, she unknowingly twiddled it between her fingers. She hadn’t thought about marrying anyone after coming to Skyrim. In fact, she wouldn’t have probably done so in Valenwood either. Her parents might have said that she had commitment issues, but the truth was that she had never been interested in settling down **.** With Sanguine, it was about commitment with certain privileges. Aerdwyn had promised to worship him and only him. They shared pleasures beyond any ordinary mortals’ imagination, but it wasn’t prohibited from either of them to share them with others as well, and that was alright. After their meeting at the Bee and Barb, she had known exactly what she was consenting to. 

Sanguine wasn’t the god of monogamy, after all, was he?

A few hours passed. The wine had flowed abundantly in Morvunskar, but the unusual group of three drinking buddies showed no signs of slowing down. On the contrary, Sanguine had asked Aerdwyn to dance with him, and they spun together on the floor of the great hall with Sheogorath clapping rhythm. The weight of her quest had been lifted from the Dragonborn’s shoulders once again, and she enjoyed their intimate merrymaking with all her heart. She should remember to take a good dosage of powdered blue mountain flower to be able to return to Windhelm at first light tomorrow, though. Maybe she should also do something about her breath before talking to Ulfric.

But that was enough about tomorrow because, at the moment, Aerdwyn preferred to live only in the now.

The dance continued. Sanguine grabbed the Bosmer’s waist and lifted her in the air. She glided around him like a swallow.

“More! Higher!” Sheogorath dared his fellow Prince who complied.

Aerdwyn’s stomach lurched when he lifted her higher, but she couldn’t help laughing. She soon began to feel sick, however, and sought an escape from the situation by entwining her legs around Sanguine’s waist when she got the chance. ¨

“ _No more_ ”, she hiccupped between giggles **.** “No more, my Lord!” 

“You dare to defy your Prince, vixen?” exhilaration was heavy in the Daedra’s voice.

“You’re turning my innards upside down! I beg you, no more.”

The clapping grew quieter in the background while the Lord of Debauchery stared at the wood elf who had to swallow her upcoming vomit.

“I’ll grant your wish this time, little Dragonborn”, he then said and let go of her slowly so she didn’t fall straight to the floor. “However, you can expect to be punished later.”

“ _Thank you_ ”, Aerdwyn uttered, lying at his feet.

“A punishment, hmm?” the Mad God wondered. “Does it involve leather? Spanking? **…** cream cake?”

“I hope so”, the Bosmer opined with a drunken grin on her face.

Sanguine cast a satisfied glance at her.

“Perhaps”, he then turned to speak to Sheogorath. “Whatever it is, you’re not invited.”

“Such a shame. I’ve always wanted to split someone in two. Literally.”

“Oh, I intend to split _something._ But first… should we open another bottle?”

The capricious Daedra’s lips thinned, and a grin bared his white teeth partly.

“And here I thought you wouldn’t ask! This mad world is always full of such lovely surprises.”


	15. The black dragon's bane

Snow whirled around the World-Eater when he spread his wings and took off **.** The Dragonborn panted, trying to even her breath while she waited for her foe to return. The Dremora she had summoned gasped and vanished nearby.

Nothing else happened.

“Where is he?” the freezing mountain air turned Aerdwyn’s breath into small white clouds.

“Lot krongah. You proved to have the Voice of a dovah”, Paarthurnax told her. “You proved too strong for him to challenge right now. He escaped.”

“ _What_?” the almond-shaped eyes appeared rounder for a moment. “Where did he go?”

“Sadly, I don’t know that, but one of his allies could tell us. Mothamus… It won’t be easy to convince them to betray him.”

“If possible at all”, Aerdwyn added, spreading her arms in frustration as she stared at the sky. “ _Come back and fight me, you overgrown ringworm!”_

“Drem, Dovahkiin”, the old dragon said. “Perhaps the hofkahsejun – the palace in Whiterun could be of use in the matter. It was originally built to house a captive dovah.”

“Hmh. The Jarl won’t be happy about that, I imagine.”

“Your su’um is strong. Convince him.”

_*sigh*_

“If you say so…”

The battle was over, and a hunt was to begin. Sticking to the mountainside to shield herself from the wind, Aerdwyn headed back to High Hrothgar. She should ask Arngeir’s opinion about the situation while she was at it although she wasn’t sure what good would that do. Honestly, she wasn’t sure if anything she had done so far mattered at all. Aerdwyn had explored the ancient, hazardous Dwemer city to find something that hadn’t exactly proven to be useful.

Well, she knew Dragonrend now, of course, but had that helped her defeat that flying lizard? No.

Did she know where her adversary was now? No.

What was she going to do next? Tell Jarl Balgruuf to let a dragon attack his city and most likely destroy part of it in the process.

Even if they managed to catch one of Alduin’s allies, was there a guarantee of co-operation?

The Bosmer gave a frustrated laugh.

She was supposed to save the world and everything she did seemed to backfire on her face. 

What a glorious day to be the Dragonborn, huh? 

***

“You want to do _what_?”

Dragonsreach grew quiet when the Jarl sprang up from his throne, staring at the Bosmer with all the fury lit within him.

“I’m sure she didn’t mean it literally, my lord”, his steward tried to calm him. 

“Oh, but I did”, Aerdwyn smiled at the Breton half-heartedly. “It’s what this mighty place was built for, I hear.”

“You ask me to endanger my people with no guarantee of success”, Balgruuf huffed in anger. “In case you hadn’t noticed, this country is also in a civil war. To agree to what you’re asking… Might as well burn the city myself!”

“I’m aware of that, my lord, but Alduin is much bigger a threat than any war.”

The Jarl calmed down a bit, and his face began to drop slowly.

“The World-Eater himself?” he asked incredulously. “If that’s the case, everything is lost already.”

“We won’t surrender without a fight, my Jarl”, his Dunmer housecarl told him.

“Nor will you have to”, the wood elf added. “I’ve been chasing that flying miscreant this whole time only for him to escape from my reach. Once I find out where he’s hiding, I _won’t_ fail.”

The Dragonborn’s request was carefully reconsidered. Proventus didn’t understand why the Jarl even bothered to do so. It was understandable, in a way, for the steward wasn’t a Nord and didn’t believe in their tales. Aerdwyn might have acted the same in his place. Balgruuf’s housecarl, Irileth, on the other hand, declared that she’d accept whatever her lord decided.

The Nord returned to sit on his throne after pondering the matter thoroughly.

“What you ask is pure folly”, his opening statement wasn’t surprising. “However, if Alduin is here and you’re our only hope to stop him… I cannot deny it.”

“But my lord…!” the Breton tried to protest, but the Jarl waved him off.

“Quiet, Proventus. Now, before I give my final permission, Dragonborn, I’d ask something of you.”

Aerdwyn quirked a brow.

“What is it, my lord?” she inquired.

“Both the Stormcloaks and the Legion are preying on my doorstep, waiting for me to make a wrong move. They would take advantage of the city’s distress without a second thought. You can’t stop the war, but with the Greybeards’ help, you might convince both sides to agree to a truce.”

“You… want me to host a peace council?”

“High Hrothgar is neutral territory, and all the Nords respect the Greybeards. Even Ulfric and Tullius can’t ignore them”

 _I’ll have to travel to High Hrothgar **again**? _ the young Bosmer grumbled to herself. _This time I’m making the journey with Baune._

“I shall deliver your request to the Greybeards”, she swallowed her anger and nodded respectfully. “Leave everything to me.”

***

The bandits scattered. One of the remaining ones, a Dunmer archer, made the run for it in sight of the Dremora who now pursued him. Aerdwyn watched them play cat and mouse from horseback and yawned. She had ridden non-stop from Windhelm towards Solitude since dawn, and she was _tired_. She had used the Rose only to summon aid when she needed it so far, but it was nice to watch someone else fight for her for a change. The staff provided, as Sanguine himself had put it, “a never-ending stream of minions”, so why not put it to good use? Aerdwyn’s quest had tossed her all around this blasted country, and it was about time she was the one to watch and wait.

 _Patience, Dragonborn,_ Aerdwyn sneered, making faces. _I’ll send you on an errand to the ass-end of the world to retrieve a holy pinecone, but first, listen to me twaddle._

The Dunmer screamed in pain somewhere near the bandits’ ambush site, and the Dremora went after another survivor. 

_Being the Dragonborn is a gift and honour beyond question._

“Bah”, Aerdwyn scoffed. “Honour? More like being taken for granted if you ask me.”

The area grew silent save for the clanking of heavy armour. The Dremora walked down the path with its sword sheathed, returning to the carrier of the Rose. It saluted her for some reason, placing a fist over its chest and bowing. Aerdwyn couldn’t help appearing amused.

“The bandits are taken care of, I take it?” she swallowed in an attempt to normalize her expression.

“They are, my queen”, the Dremora reported.

“Go… Wait, what did you just call me?”

“The Kyn say things as they are.”

_Where’s this coming from?_

“I’m no-one’s queen”, Aerdwyn protested. “I merely possess the Sanguine Rose.”

“You are the carrier of two roses, the one our Lord’s Kyn are proud to serve.”

“But that would mean…”

The Dremora began to fade as its essence returned to Oblivion.

“Exactly.”

Aerdwyn tilted her head, completely stupefied, and she sat still so long that Baune started to grow impatient. The dapple-grey horse was more than eager to go on because there wasn’t even grass nearby for him to nibble.

“Yes, yes”, the wood elf patted his neck absentmindedly. “In a bit.”

She couldn’t tear her gaze away from a rock further along the path **.**

 _“Queen”?_ she repeated incredulously in her mind and gave a laugh. _Y’ffre’s trees, I’m not one, am I? That’s just… absurd._

Sanguine had said no such thing, ever. They weren’t married, not even engaged.

Gods, did the Daedra even marry?

Aerdwyn gave the matter a quick though and wasn’t ready to buy it. The Dremora had surely mistaken.

 _Yes, that’s it. Mistaken,_ the Bosmer nodded several times before finally signalling Baune to move again.

She should reach Solitude before nightfall. The sooner the peace negotiations would begin, the better.


	16. What happens in Solitude...

The traveller closed the door behind her. The inn was almost desolate which was curious considering that Solitude was a large city. There was no music **,** and the few customers were too tired to even properly converse with each other.

 _What a cheerful place_ , Aerdwyn noted as she took a seat in front of the counter.

The innkeeper flashed him a wide smile.

“Welcome to the Winking Skeever, friend!” he greeted her with exaggerated joy. “What can I get you? Mead, perhaps?”

_‘Friend’? Is business here really that dead?_

“It would be nice to have a bed for the night for starters”, the wood elf exhaled heavily, placing her elbows on the counter.

“I can help with that for ten coins. Anything else before you retire for the night?”

“Why not. I’m always game for some good wine.”

_Now more than ever._

“You’re in luck, then. I managed to get my hands on a rare vintage yesterday. Five coins a cup, just for you.”

“How much for the whole bottle?”

“Whol…” the innkeeper was stupefied but recovered fast. “Why, of course. Thirty coins.”

_Well, I’ve got only fifty coins left, but…_

“I’ll take it.”

The evening progressed sluggishly, and the atmosphere remained as dull as ever. In days past, Aerdwyn would have been content to sit in a quiet place like this and drown her sorrows, but now—well… She could swear the locals had been more cheerful during the execution she had witnessed on her first visit to the city. While she wondered what might be causing the gloomy atmosphere, a dark-haired Imperial approached her table.

“Having enough wine, or shall I bring another bottle?” he asked in a raspy voice.

“Hmm”, Aerdwyn squinted her eyes. “Is this business or are you just trying to hit on me?”

The Imperial covered his cough with his right hand.

“I’m the one who owns this place”, he stated self-importantly. “Well… okay. My father owns it, but it’s the family business, so…”

“I get the idea.”

“But if you want this to be the other thing, I won’t say no.”

 _I am **not** married_, the black-haired wood elf reminded herself. _Besides, isn’t this what I’m expected to do?_

“Huh”, her right index finger circled the wine bottle’s mouth. “I’d love some company, but sadly, I can’t afford another bottle.”

“I have some local spiced wine stashed in my room. I can get it if you want.”

“A generous offer”, the man received a charming smile. “How could I ever refuse?”

Bolstered by the flirt, the Imperial left with haughtiness in his steps. The fellow was full of himself, that much was clear, but even people like him had the right to be merry **.** Actually, the whole city had the right to do so.

 _What would **he** do? _Aerdwyn glanced around. _Hmm…_

She thought about the matter for a moment before she rose up and walked to the fair-haired bard sitting in the nearby corner **.**

“You’re the one in charge of music around here, am I right?” she asked straightforwardly.

“I am”, the Breton blinked once. “Are you here to make a request?”

“Any song will do, actually. Hopefully, it will help the people cheer up a bit. What do you say?”

“Hmm… You know what? I’ll do it for free. A bard is mostly paid with smiles and applauds rather than coin anyway.”

_There, one problem solved._

The moment the bard plucked the first string of her lute, the tavern’s atmosphere didn’t feel so gloomy anymore. Some of the customers even seemed refreshed. When Aerdwyn turned to head back to the table, she noticed that the dark-haired Imperial was already waiting for her.

“You almost had me worried when I didn’t see you sitting there”, he said unctuously when she returned to her seat.

“And miss all the fun?” she replied in kind.

“I bought this from the market this morning”, the man poured them both some wine. “I usually give it to Vivienne, but… Nah, forget it.”

“Oh? Who’s she?” Aerdwyn grabbed one of the mugs.

“Err—doesn’t matter. We’re sitting here to have a good time, aren’t we?”

“I’ll drink to that.”

Both took their time to savour the wine as they tasted it.

_Hmm. Not bad._

“So”. the Imperial worked to incite conversation. “What brings you to this glorious city of ours?” 

“Peace negotiations”, Aerdwyn replied, staring into her mug.

“With whom?”

“I need the Legion and the Stormcloaks to stop fighting so I can carry on with my Dragonborn thing.”

Aerdwyn had grown too accustomed to the “Dragonborn this and Dragonborn that” -talk to mind her tongue anymore. If people recognized her, so be it. She hadn’t visited Solitude often, though, and things were different here.

“’Dragonborn’?” the Imperial snorted. “What the heck is that?”

On the contrary to Aerdwyn’s admirer, however, the title used of her didn’t go unnoticed by some of the others.

“Dragonborn?” an older Nord mercenary sat up and took notice. “The warrior of legends?”

“Why not”, Aerdwyn shrugged. “I can think of worse names than that.”

“Haha!” a boisterous laugh filled the inn momentarily. “Hear that Corpulus? We have a true hero in our midst. Calls for celebration, don’t you think?”

“Whatever the excuse, I’m not offering free drinks, Beirand”, the innkeeper called out from behind the counter. “You know that.”

“Your reaction is understandable, Corpulus”, the Bosmer cut in and stood up leisurely. “I wouldn’t easily believe something like that either **.** But what anyone here believes doesn’t change the fact that I’m here to negotiate a truce. Wouldn’t it be nice if the Legion stopped fighting for a moment, and its soldiers would spend their evenings drinking here, at your inn?”

The Dragonborn’s appeal to the innkeeper’s greed seemed to find its target at first, but in the end, the answer was still no. She then resorted to other means as vile as the other one. She wandered to the counter with her hips swaying.

“If what I see here tonight is true every day, I’d say your business needs a boost”, she flashed her most flattering smile at the Imperial.

“I don’t see how free drinks would improve my business”, the older Vinius folded his arms across his chest.

“Free drinks bring people in, and after they’ve drunk their first, they’ll want more. That’s how.”

“I’m not a fan of giving anything away for free either, father, but perhaps we should give it a try. We did that with our meat pies during the Burning of King Olaf, didn’t we?”

Aerdwyn raised an eyebrow when she gave the innkeeper’s son a sidelong glance. Maybe he was trying to suck up to her, but his motives didn’t matter. She appreciated—hmm, perhaps that wasn’t the right word. There was no warm feeling inside her, no grateful smile on her face… Self-satisfied? Yes, just that. A cunning smile crossed the elf's lips when she turned her attention to Corpulus who was still weighing his options.

“Think about it”, she incited him. “All of the customers pouring in here, eager to spend their hard-earned coin on food and drink.”

“Well, alright”, the innkeeper sighed. “Just this once.”

“Good man, and you can always charge double for the second drink, can’t you?”

 _Cha-ching,_ Aerdwyn chuckled quietly when she saw how the man’s expression changed noticeably. _There’s the greed I wanted to see **.**_

The previously depressed mood that had wafted inside the Winking Skeever like a bad odour vanished in less than an hour **.** When Corpulus had announced his generous offer to his customers, another one had just happened to walk in. The grey-haired, rugged Breton had immediately barged out of the main door to spread the word on the street. The people had started to pour in at such a rate that the reluctant younger Vinius had been forced to act as a doorman. Now, the inn was full of murmur and chanting. The bard encouraged the people to sing along in honour of the elf who had played a major part in making it all to happen.

Nearly every able person obliged.

The Bosmer leant against the wall, listening to the more or less drunken choir. Some of the inn’s customers even started dancing. The feeling that had taken over Aerdwyn after her successful persuasion of the innkeeper hadn’t vanished. The achievement had gratified her immensely, and the feeling remained. The clapping, the singing… all the revelry around her kept it alive. Well, maybe the fact that the song performed was “the Dragonborn comes” had something to do with that, too. It reminded Aerdwyn of the night she had spent in Sanguine’s Sanctum. The feast here wasn’t anything like the ones there, but it was better than to have none at all. What had Sanguine said to her after she had confronted him about their rather eventful night in Skyrim? Ah, yes.

“You just went out into the world and spread some merriment”.

The wood elf’s right cheek appeared rounder when the corner of her mouth rose yet again.

 _So I did, my Prince,_ she glanced around before joining the fray in hopes of another drink. _So I did._

The revelry that continued deep into the night boosted the Winking Skeever’s cash flow significantly, but it also eventually attracted the attention of the city guard **.** Three guardsmen entered the establishment sometime after midnight, demanding to know the reason for the racket. Corpulus Vinius was quick to apologize and explain to avoid any further trouble, but the Dragonborn resorted to different means. She sweet-talked all three to utilize the offer of free drinks and think things over. Perhaps they were tired to their jobs or just in need of a break, but they turned out to be easier to jawbone than the stubborn innkeeper. Thus, the party was free to go on, and it lasted two more hours until Captain Aldis, a stern Nord, arrived at the scene. He dissolved the crowd, giving extra rebuke for his subordinates. The party was over, but life in Solitude did feel a bit jollier afterwards.

On that, everyone agreed. 


	17. Company for the road

Baune reared. Two wolves, a grey and a brown one, tried to snap at his heels, and they got nearly trampled when his large front hooves stomped the ground again **.** The beasts grew bolder with every attempt, however, and one of them eventually managed to lock its jaws around the horse’s right hind leg. It got swiftly kicked away, but the rider still had to intervene. Baune sprinted away as soon as Aerdwyn jumped down from the saddle, and the wolves didn’t bother to give chase.

There was easier prey waiting just in front of their hungry eyes—or so they thought.

They started to circle their target, waiting for her focus to slip. The Dragonborn didn’t make any unnecessary moves. She drew her daggers with controlled, steady motion, keeping a close eye on the two canines **.** The grey wolf gnarled and closed in on her while the other one leapt to attack. Aerdwyn fended off the latter with a Shout and focused on the one that tried to bite her wrist. She evaded the beast’s jaws and thrust her right-hand dagger into its throat. The wolf let out a suffocated yelp and fell on the ground with a gruesome, fatal wound beneath its lower jaw. The one that had barely recovered from the force of the Voice put back its ears and growled. It lowered its head when Aerdwyn turned her fiery gaze towards it. Both of them remained motionless as they sized each other up.

The wolf didn’t want to share its companion’s fate.

The road was safe again—or at least it would be until a stray troll or bear would find it **.** Aerdwyn swept the blades of her daggers clean with a rag before sheathing them. When the effects of adrenaline weakened, allowing her to think more clearly again, she frowned and raised her gaze.

“Baune?” her call disappeared into the wilderness.

_Blasted wolves_ , the Bosmer cursed, tugged the rag back into the leather bag on her belt, and crouched to search the ground.

The soil had gotten blended during the battle, but the steed’s hoofprints were still distinguishable for a skilled tracker.

_This is the spot_ , Aerdwyn moved to the point where she had jumped down from the saddle. _Baune continued straight ahead._

The tracks strayed from the road before the crossroads ahead and continued left towards the Hjaal River. Observing every forcefully bent blade of grass, drops of blood, and loose dirt, the wood elf made use of her natural talents in the skill her people had perfected. She didn’t see any paw prints, so the surviving wolf must have fled elsewhere.

_Hopefully, he doesn’t run into something worse_ **.**

The Forsworn rarely wandered this far, but there were far more dangerous things out in the wilds than them. A hungry dragon, a sabre cat… All kinds of hunters big enough to bring down even the strongest horse with one blow. The mere thought made the young Dragonborn scowl. She had bought Baune from Riften Stables a few weeks after she had come to Skyrim and was too attached to the stubborn steed to give up easily. She kept following the tracks tirelessly until she saw a glimpse of Baune’s ashen mane.

He wasn’t alone.

There were no signs of panic nor pain in the way the sturdy horse acted. On the contrary, he munched a carrot contently. A traveller wearing black robes sat on a tree stump next to him, running his hand over the dappled muzzle soothingly.

“There you are”, Sam mused before he even laid his eyes on the approaching Bosmer. “I have been waiting for you for quite some time.”

“And how long is that, my Lord?” Aerdwyn inquired coyly, her mind set at ease.

“Too long without any entertainment—or without you. Which answer would you like, vixen?”

“Is that your way to say you missed me?”

The disguised Daedra stood up slowly, leaving Baune to graze in peace.

“That is not an answer”, he scolded her.

Despite his disguise, she could feel his black stare from behind those brown eyes. 

“I’m content with the one you choose”, she replied when he stopped right in front of her.

“This isn’t one of the moments when that is a valid answer, sweet one”, he grabbed her chin gently.

“Then I have to say the first one sounds more like you, my Prince, but I can’t deny hoping for the other.”

The words the Bosmer had just spoken gave her the chills. Her cheeks felt hot, and her eyes widened. What the Dremora had said to her on her way to Solitude… Did this have something to do with it?

“It seems that you are following me again”, Aerdwyn stated, curbing the wanton desire awakened by the Breton’s touch.

The trace of mischief on his face answered on his behalf before he even spoke.

“Possibly”, he teased her on purpose after noticing her reaction to his touch. “Am I not allowed to show interest in the doings of my chosen one?”

Aerdwyn’s pulse quickened.

_That voice. That velvety voice…_

“It’s your right”, she breathed **.**

“Then why are we having this conversation?”

“I…”

Words got stuck in the wood elf’s throat, and she averted her gaze in hesitation. Was it true or not? While she felt unsure what to believe, fingers glided along the delicate lines of her jaw.

“I can wait”, Sam chuckled. “If you don’t mind the company.”

Aerdwyn flinched, and her gaze re-joined his.

“I was heading to the…” her wavering voice was silenced by a light press of a finger on her lips.

“I know. So, shall we?” 

The journey’s atmosphere changed. The flustered Dragonborn had felt disconnected with reality for a moment, but after seeing Baune’s bloodied leg, she had gotten hold of herself again. Apparently, Sanguine had healed the steed’s wounds because she didn’t see any.

That, she hadn’t expected.

Furthermore, why had he decided to show up all of sudden? He had the tendency to do so, of course, but never had he offered to travel with her until now. What was his aim? She didn’t complain, oh no. Her steps felt lighter by his side **.** The headache she had had earlier was now non-existent. That had been replaced by various desires roiling inside her **.** They always showed up in Sanguine’s presence, but unlike others who visited his realms, she had the will to keep them in check. Sometimes—or rather most times—she just didn’t wish to do so. Esbern and others like him would probably question whether it was her own credit to have the freedom to choose or did the Lord of Debauchery allow it. Aerdwyn didn’t ponder upon it herself. Why would she? She had pledged herself to Sanguine, thus submitting to his will. That didn’t mean she didn’t have a mind of her own—and a busy one at that.

There was one question that pestered her in particular, and it was becoming impossible to ignore anymore.

The usually confident, and maybe somewhat insolent, wood elf held her mount’s reins loosely in her left hand. The road’s surface claimed her attention every now and then, and she didn’t even notice the most curious detail of the journey: the Daedric Prince by her side was untypically quiet. He gave people what they needed, so maybe he didn’t say anything because it was best for her right now **.**

In this case, however, it was also something else.

As silence often made one’s own thoughts louder, they now screamed inside Aerdwyn’s head **.**

It was torture.

“There’s… something I need to ask”, the Bosmer divulged her wish in an absentminded tone.

“Go ahead”, Sam encouraged her to speak up.

His voice was like a wake-up call that began to ring in Aerdwyn’s ears, and she stopped walking. He did so, too, as if he had read her mind.

“Am I your queen?”

The question was blatant and demanding like the stare Aerdwyn aimed at the disguised Prince. He squinted his eyes, still maintaining that ever-mischievous gleam in them.

“Hmm. Why do you ask this?”

“Don’t treat me like I’m some ordinary drunkard.”

The fiery attitude poured into those words lit Sam’s gaze in a whole new way.

“You’re not like them, lovely vixen”, Aerdwyn could feel his breath while he inspected her face. “You’ve proved that many times. I heard about this event in Solitude that was particularly… intriguing.”

_He knows about that?_ Aerdwyn’s surprise was short-lived. _Of course he does. Stupid me._

She blinked slowly, her face appearing fox-like when she leered at the Breton from beneath her brows.

“You’re avoiding the question, my Lord”, she reminded him.

“I’m not.”

The Bosmer moved more boldly, letting Baune’s reigns slip from her hand, and brought her lips close to Sam’s ear.

“Then answer me.”

The three little words were uttered with an amorous whisper, but they only barely hid the Dragonborn’s excruciating yearning to know the truth. She was at odds about how to feel about it. She had divulged her desire to stay in the Myriad Realms where she didn’t stand out from others, but now it seemed that she was to be put on a pedestal again. If she didn’t want to be a hero, why would she want to be a queen?

When her gaze finally sought that of her Lord’s again, he granted her unexpected mercy by pressing his hand on her left cheek.

A pleasant, calming wave washed through the wood elf, but it didn’t make her change her mind. Her gaze was as bright and unwavering as before, and it made the Breton hum in amusement.

“Wouldn’t it be glorious, sweet one?” he tempted her. “The two of us helping ordinary mortals to find relief in their daily lives.”

“A generous act as that may be, wouldn’t that make us, make me...” Aerdwyn couldn’t even say it aloud.

“Married? Raise you above others?”

Shivers coursed through Aerdwyn, leaving her feeling paralyzed. Despite his amiable words and smile, the hedonistic Prince struck insidiously in the right spot. He preyed upon the two things that were equal to fears in the wood elf’s mind, but he did so with daunting softness. The familiar, wicked smile appeared on the Breton’s thin lips again.

“Why don’t you like being the Dragonborn?” his unexpected question changed the course of their conversation. “You seem more than capable in a fight.”

“Everyone expects me to throw myself into the fire for them”, the Bosmer’s voice broke momentarily **.** “Why should I care? Why me?”

“As I see it, there’s much to care about, vixen. What’s a party if there’s no-one left to party with?”

“Is that why you need me? To keep your party going?”

“In part, perhaps. At least you’d help me immensely in the matter”, the Prince jested **.** “But that’s not the reason. As I said, the mortals don’t deserve you, the Aedra _don’t_ deserve you. Deep down, I see vileness in you, little Dragonborn, desires that should be allowed to bloom. You intrigue me in a way no mortal has ever done.”

An unstoppable, torrid sigh escaped Aerdwyn. Those words were like notes played with the strings of her very being **.**

“Be my queen, and there won’t be nothing like the mortal concept of marriage. You won’t be expected to rule, but you’ll still be only second to me”, he held a pause, waiting for her to say something before adding: “It will be fun. What do you say?”

The bow-shaped lips worked to form a radiant smile while astonishment played with them.

Sam closed in for a kiss, giving Aerdwyn just enough time to give him an answer **.**

“ _Yes_.”


	18. The night of the Red Queen

The two moons added silvery shimmer to the clouds drifting around them. Guards patrolled the streets with their torches, and every one of them stopped at the Bannered Mare to investigate the hubbub they couldn’t help hearing. Their attempts to calm things down were futile, however, and they inevitably ended up joining the carousing. Mead flowed abundantly, and the cook kept carrying various dishes from the kitchen. The bard, who hadn’t still forgotten about how he had once seen the Dragonborn naked, sang of bold adventures of various kinds, earning applauds from the crowd every time he finished a musical tale. A couple of fights had broken out when members of two rival clans had raised their fists over petty matters, but the other customers had stopped them every time, saying that now wasn’t the time to argue but to be merry.

Such was the true, uncurbed influence of the presence of the Daedric Prince of Debauchery.

The people enjoying their lives downstairs were blissfully unaware of who was staying in the room above them. Aerdwyn couldn’t hide who she was, of course, but Sam was a different story altogether. She had objected the idea of spending the night in the city due to the fact that she should reach High Hrothgar before the negotiations started. Sanguine, now lying in his true form on the bed beside her, had reassured her that she’d still make it in time, and she trusted him. Baune would be taken good care of at the local stables where she had left him. She hadn’t had any money to pay the stable master, but luckily, he had allowed her to pay later due to the fact that she was the Jarl’s thane. Nothing worried Aerdwyn right now, not even that she had been named Queen of the Myriad Realms of Revelry—or the Red Queen for short.

The latter had been Sanguine’s idea.

To his mind, her title should be pithy and inspire various feelings, and red was a colour that could be associated with many things. Passion, blood, wine… It was whatever one wanted it to be, and Aerdwyn was its incarnation, just as her Prince was that of debauchery’s.

Hearkening the noises of the inn, the Dragonborn smiled to herself. She lied on her stomach with the surrounding candles illuminating her lean form **.** The wine she had drunk made her feel pleasantly fuzzy, and it intensified the relaxing feeling of the several orgasms she had experienced during the last hour. She was no immortal, though, and her body couldn’t keep up Sanguine’s stamina. Understanding that, he had given her some time to recover.

Besides, it was her night, and she made the rules.

Aerdwyn’s black hair brushed her back when she turned her head, resting her left cheek on her crossed arms.

The Daedra rested shamelessly on his back with his eyes closed.

He opened them slightly when he sensed that he was being watched, revealing their onyx-like shine.

“Do I have something on my face, or are you just staring at me?” he asked.

“I was wondering about what is happening downstairs, but yes, I was also staring at you, my Lord”, Aerdwyn’s shoulders swayed as she beamed at him wickedly.

“Well, you can continue admiring me, or we can go and join the party again.” 

“I’m sure at least half of the people downstairs would flee if you barged in there looking like that.”

“Only half of them?”

The Bosmer dragged her teeth over her lower lip seductively and cocked her head **.**

“I imagine the other half would simply be too... impressed of your naked splendour.”

Laughter filled the room. It wasn’t the same drunken guffaw like that at Morvunskar, but clear and deep. It seeped into Aerdwyn like a spell, telling her of her Prince’s contentment **.**

“Are you jealous, vixen?” his question wasn’t outright serious.

Aerdwyn rose just enough to be able to crawl towards him.

“Not at all”, she brushed his ebony chest with her fingertips. “But it’s my night, isn’t it? I can be as selfish or charitable as I want.” 

“Then tell me what you desire. I’m good at making such wishes true, after all.”

“And creating them where there is none”, the Bosmer added with a chuckle.

“Maybe”, Sanguine opened his eyes properly and turned to look straight at her.

That small word culminated his sinister side fantastically. Aerdwyn understood that now, and she liked what she saw.

The same vileness, as he had said, was within her, too.

The wood elf reached to kiss the dark lips she had come to crave.

“I want you to take me right against that wall”, she nodded towards the one opposite to her **.** “Then we can think about joining the party downstairs.”

“Hm”, Sanguine’s smirk was subtle. “As you wish, my queen.”

The thick wall planks let out a thud when a bare back was slammed passionately against them. A pot lost its balance and fell from the nearby shelf, crashing on the floor. Luckily, a spell kept the room separated from the rest of the inn, and no-one came to investigate the sound. No-one would probably have come anyway because the racket downstairs covered other noises well, but even Sanguine, though he joked about it often, knew better than to show himself publicly as his true self. Even though Aerdwyn had participated in one of his orgies, she didn’t want to share him with anyone right now. He pressed her tightly against the wall, filling her with his member. Part of her long hair was caught between their bodies, sticky from sweat and occasionally yanking at her scalp as they moved. The Bosmer lifted her black gaze to the ceiling and closed her eyes when she felt his lips grazing her neck. She clung to him with unending hunger and breathed his name. The Daedra bit her skin, building up her ardour to the point where she couldn’t take it anymore, but he didn’t stop. He had given her his blessing, and she revelled in the waves of her orgasm, only to be left to crave more.

He was her addiction, and she was his queen.

Strong hands squeezed the Bosmer’s buttocks firmly as Sanguine continued to fuck her. He stopped caressing her neck and brought his face in front of hers. She took his head between her hands, dug her fingernails into his skin, and pressed her lips feverishly on his like they were last drops of water in the deserts of Elsweyr.

The taste of the fruity wine on them was intoxicating.

Meanwhile, Sanguine changed his pace and moved more slowly until he stopped completely. He focused on returning the caress of the silky lips for a moment, only to suddenly start moving again. Aerdwyn moaned against his mouth when he penetrated her fiercely, holding a brief pause every time he buried himself fully inside her **.** She retaliated by biting his lower lip with a sinful grimace.

Her Prince took that as a challenge.

His wide chest pressed her breasts flat when he caught her more tightly between himself and the wall, seeking a better angle to gain more force to his thrusts **.** He then sought a sensitive spot near her jawline and began to suck it.

The wood elf wriggled helplessly under his touch.

A burn took over her body, and she could do nought but let Sanguine take her to the heights of her next release. Her folds pulsed as he continued to work within her. The caress on her reddened neck stopped, turning into a sweet sting of his teeth again as he neared his own finale. The Daedra growled like an angry beast, and after a couple of slow thrusts, he finally stopped **.** His chest heaved more heavily than usual, but otherwise, he didn’t show any signs of physical exertion.

Aerdwyn couldn’t stop herself from considering what she had told him earlier.

Perhaps, instead of joining the party, they should enjoy each other’s company a bit longer?

When the bite on her neck receded, Aerdwyn was free to nudge her left temple against that of Sanguine’s. She closed her eyes, her breath landing near his ear like gusts of warm wind. Her nostrils caught the enticing, rosy scent of his shiny, black hair every time she inhaled.

“Sanguine”, she endorsed the occasion of whispering his name.

“Yes, sweet one?” the vibration of the Prince’s voice rippled over her cheek.

“I never told you how glad I am for meeting you here for the first time.”

“You didn’t sound exactly glad after finding me in the Misty Grove.”

Aerdwyn giggled.

“Things change”, she leant her head back to see his face. “Sometimes even for the better.”

“That they do”, he returned her gaze with a flattering smile on his lips. “Sometimes they just need a little help.”

Genuine joy surfaced within her upon hearing those words, but it was silenced by another feeling. Sanguine’s member that was still inside kept her folds stretched and prevented her lust from smothering.

“Pardon me, my Lord, but you don’t feel tired”, the wood elf played the coy card. “Could we…?”

Her transparent request earned a satisfied hum from the Daedric Prince.

“Should we test the floor’s capacity this time? I’d like to see what the one who’s now tied to me is capable of.”

_You know what I’m capable of,_ she chuckled to herself, spinning a strand of his hair around her right index finger.

“Your wish shall be granted, Lord of Hedonism”, she promised regally. “I’m sure your loyal subjects can manage without you a while longer, but I can’t say so myself… “


	19. Peace for Skyrim

The hall was full of people and silent contempt. The fire burning in the square pit illuminated the features of grudge and hatred on the faces of war heroes **.** The bad blood between the two negotiating factions was so thick that it seemed impossible to get them to agree to any kind of terms. Knowing what it was like to live under foreign authority, the Dragonborn was inclined to side with the Stormcloaks, but she couldn’t do so openly. However, she had agreed with Jarl Ulfric that Elenwen had no place in the meeting. In addition to her dislike of the Thalmor, Aerdwyn saw no benefit in having the ambassador present. On the contrary, it could ruin everything.

The Dragonborn was here to get what she wanted, and she wouldn’t allow anyone— especially not some haughty Altmer—to prevent her from achieving that.

The negotiations hadn’t progressed. Arngeir had tried to uphold a sense of civility, but the situation had turned into an argument between the Jarl of Windhelm, the General of the Imperial Legion **,** and their attachés **.** Aerdwyn sat between them, rolling her eyes while she listened to their bickering.

“What did the Thalmor promise you, Tullius?” Ulfric inquired snidely. “The position of the High King?”

“I have no such intentions”, the Imperial was quick to debunk the claims. “I serve the Emperor and not myself.”

“Bah!” Ulfric’s right-hand man made his opinion known. “A snivelling coward hiding in the safety of his palace is no ruler.”

“You’re lucky I respect the Greybeard’s council, Galmar!” the legate accompanying the general flared up, but his superior was quick to curb her anger.

However, it didn’t change the course the meeting had already taken.

It would be usually here by now, the headache, but it stuck out with its absence. Aerdwyn wasn’t sorry for that. In fact, despite all the fuss going on around her, she was unaffected by it. The goal was burning bright in her mind like a beacon, and she’d do anything to achieve it.

_Well, nearly anything._

The Bosmer continued to watch the members of the two factions from beneath brows for a moment until she suddenly decided to speak. 

“There are far better uses for time than pointless accusations”, she noted loudly, glancing down at the surface of the stone table.

When she was sure she had gotten the rapt attention of those who mattered, she raised her gaze, eyeing the Jarl of Windhelm and the Imperial general in turn **.**

“A truce must be achieved here, today, or there won’t be any land left to fight for.”

“The Dragonborn speaks with wisdom”, Arngeir proclaimed. “I ask that you all respect the spirit of High Hrothgar and do your best to begin the process of achieving lasting peace in Skyrim.”

Both leaders grew silent, weighing those words carefully in their minds.

“Very well”, Tullius murmured. “I do respect the Greybeards as well as this place. Let’s negotiate.”

Ulfric glared at him grimly.

“Agreed.”

The argument began again. This time it was about who’d control Riften. The Legion wanted to gain control over the city, and Ulfric was inclined to agree to that demand if the price was right, so to speak. He and Tullius got caught in a debate to which Galmar was more than eager to throw in some insight. The question was eventually placed on the Dragonborn’s shoulders, and relying on what little she knew about the events tied to the ongoing war, she had a suggestion.

“How about Markarth?” her words were clearly of the utmost satisfaction for the Jarl of Windhelm.

“Hm, yes”, he mused. “What do you say, Tullius? Riften for Markarth?”

“Absolutely not!” the general snapped. “We believed the Dragonborn to be impartial, but she’s clearly associating with you.”

“You’re asking us to give up a lot, so you have to do the same. It’s only fair.”

“Truly? Then why do I think this event of ours is not a negotiation at all?”

_Hmph. These two just can’t play nice._

To cut the quarrel between the two men, Aerdwyn stood up, but not to yell at them. Flames cast her shadow on the wall as she vaulted over the oval ring table and started to approach the Legion’s delegation, sliding her left hand along the smooth stone as she went.

“My dear General”, her voice flowed like the finest silk, “did you know that I came to Skyrim because the Thalmor tried to kill my family? You surely understand why I sent the good ambassador away, don’t you?”

“I’m sorry to hear that”, Tullius corrected his posture, “but it also seems to remove your neutrality in these negotiations.”

“Oh, but it doesn’t because the Jarl is right. You’d gain much by getting control over Riften, so you have to give something equally valuable.”

“But…”

“ _Be that as it may_ ”, the Bosmer raised her voice momentarily to overcome that of Tullius’, “I’m not here to pick sides. I’m here because I know what awaits if we fail here today. If you don’t know it, then—Esbern, would you be so kind?”

The older Blade nodded and stood up. He and Delphine had entered the meeting as neutral observers, but it seemed that, as much as Aerdwyn disliked to admit it, the old man’s insight on the matter was needed.

The wood elf stopped in front of the empty seat left by Elenwen and leant against the table when yet another speech began.

“The Dragonborn is right”, Esbern spoke audibly. “You must see beyond your petty disagreements. Alduin the World-Eater has returned, and even now, he devours the souls of your fallen comrades, growing more powerful with each one. Can’t you put aside your hatred for even one moment in the face of this mortal danger?”

“This dragon situation has gotten out of hand, it’s true”, Tullius admitted, trying to appear more reasonable than his adversary. “If this truce will help the Dragonborn put an end to that menace, we both gain. Remember that, Ulfric.”

_Such a fickle mind you have, General. Are all the legionnaires like that?_

“I’m not the one who needs reminding, Tullius”, the Jarl sneered without even blinking an eye. “So, are we going to make the exchange?” 

His gesture irritated the Imperial who barely managed to control his temper **.**

“You know I can’t agree to these terms. Not as they are.”

“So, what can you agree to?” Aerdwyn inquired while Galmar grumbled something about the number of demands.

“We want compensation for the massacre at Karthwasten.”

“This is our homeland, Tullius”, Ulfric countered his claims. “All the blood spilt in this war is on your head.”

With the threat of open fight at hand again, the general implored the authority of the Dragonborn who knew that Galmar had been right. If she allowed this to continue, the demands would be endless. Maybe she should have Alduin listen to this, and he’d agree to never return.

_If I was so lucky…_

“I don’t know what happened at Karthwasten”, Aerdwyn said sharply **.** “If we go through every little detail of your dispute, we might as well let Alduin burn the world outside.”

“You’re still siding with the rebels, I see”, the general sighed. “Don’t expect me you can hand me a mug of sheep’s piss and call it Colovian Brandy.”

“Now what would I gain by doing that?” the Bosmer’s gaze was filled with allure. ”I was merely being honest. Tell me, General, what do you want?”

The grey-haired Imperial blinked, and his lips parted when he exhaled.

“I… _We_ want to place an Imperial candidate on the throne of Winterhold.”

“Are you sure? Isn’t trading one major city for another enough? Or is there another price you’re after?”

Others watched in confusion how the usually resolute hero of the Legion now struggled to stay focused. One of them, however, turned to watch the elf who he considered to be the cause of the unusual event. Esbern had questioned Aerdwyn’s trustworthiness before, and now, his suspicions were clearly growing again. She felt his eyes upon her, those annoyingly inquisitive eyes… But no matter.

The young wood elf couldn’t be swayed so easily, and she continued to tackle the Imperial’s efforts to think of any new terms until he was willing to drop the subject. His second-in-command claimed that her superior had been enthralled to which Aerdwyn replied honestly by telling that she didn’t know even the simplest spell **.** There were no mages among the Stormcloaks either, so nothing could be proven.

In truth, the general’s “demise” hadn’t even been caused by magic **.** His desires had merely turned out to be easily exploitable.

After hours of insults, debate, and the use of other verbal weapons, the meeting was finally concluded. The Dragonborn would be free to travel back to Whiterun to put the plan to capture a dragon in motion, but how would she get there?

Now that was a good question.

Sanguine had brought her here through a portal, and Baune was waiting for her in Whiterun.

_Hmm…_

It seemed there would be a long trek ahead. Damn.


	20. The rarer pleasures in life

The trap was set. The Jarl and his guards were too anxious to make use of the short moment of rest before the plan would be put into motion. It was understandable because only a few of them had even seen a dragon before. Aerdwyn had seen too many for her taste so she didn’t bother to make a fuss about it **.** Furthermore, just like in High Hrothgar, she was unable to feel any kind of tension. She was in a headspace where she’d rather steal the Jarl’s uptight advisor’s underwear, hide them in the kitchen, and then blame it on a wisp — something like that. Knowing what she had to do, however, she forced herself to focus and used the moment of relative peace to breathe. She had descended from a high mountain before getting here. Luckily, she had had enough coin to buy a ride to Whiterun from Ivarstead. Sanguine might have taken her to High Hrothgar, but she knew better than to expect him also to take her back. He was a Daedric Lord, not some errand boy who comes running when the queen snaps her fingers. Besides, the sooner she’d get to Alduin, the sooner she’d see him again, and he could finally keep his promise.

For that day to come, there was something she should do… now.

Silent nobleness marked Aerdwyn’s character as she walked the large balcony. She closed her eyes momentarily, embracing the dragon blood rushing in her veins **.** Her nostrils flared, and she unleashed the power of the Voice to call upon one of the World-Eater’s allies by name.

Silence filled Dragonreach’s Great Porch.

The guards on the balcony readied their bows while the Jarl waited with a smaller band inside the keep’s walls. Aerdwyn, on the other hand, moved her gaze lazily around the clear sky **.** Despite her idle appearance, she remained vigilant. The best way to notice the arrival of a dragon was by hearing it, not seeing it. The sound of wings, the low guttural rumble and the Shouts that pierced the sky…

 _Ah_ , the Dragonborn turned to look to the mountains.

“He’s coming.” 

The red dragon made his arrival known with a cry that would dishearten any lesser warrior. His scales glistened in the sunlight as he flew past the balcony, uncaring of the arrows that hit him. The Dragonborn carried no bow, but she had a secret weapon **.** She didn’t know whether Alduin had warned his allies about it, and if so, this one, Odahviing, didn’t seem to care about the risk. Jarl Balgruuf and the guards inside the keep watched in disbelief how the Bosmer followed him unwaveringly with her gaze. When he reappeared in front of her, ready to scorch everyone in sight, she steadied her stance and inhaled sharply.

“ ** _Joor_** _**Zah** **Frul**!” _she shouted, and a blue blaze surrounded her foe.

Odahviing growled as Dragonrend tore him down from the sky, forcing him to land on the vast balcony. Aerdwyn began to slowly pull back to the keep, luring him inside with her. The archers stopped firing to join Jarl Balgruuf and the rest of the guard who now surrounded the dragon. The Bosmer continued to taunt him, staying just far enough to escape his snapping jaws. Nearing the halfway of the inner part of the Great Porch, she suddenly took a couple of quick steps backwards.

“ _Now_!”

The cogs clanked wildly when the levers were released, and a massive construct of wood and metal fell down on the red dragon. The mechanism worked perfectly, and his neck was clasped in irons like a prisoner’s wrists. Aerdwyn sheathed her brand new Daedric daggers as she watched how Odahviing struggled against his restraints.

“ _Nid_!” the word sounded almost like a curse. “Horvutad med kodaav. Zok frini grind ko grah drun viiki, Dovahkiin.”

Despite her dragon blood, Aerdwyn didn’t understand what he said. Perhaps something about her outwitting him? No matter.

“I’m not here to learn the language of the dov. I need to find Alduin”, she got straight to the point while a door opened somewhere behind her. “Show me where he is, and you’ll regain your freedom.”

“Absolutely not!” an emphatic objection made her glance over her shoulder. “You have no idea how long I have waited for an opportunity like this.”

The Jarl’s court wizard barged in, bursting with enthusiasm. The Nord’s infatuation with dragons was unhealthy, and it was a wonder it hadn’t gotten him killed by now.

“Begone, mage”, Odahviing rumbled indignantly. “I will only speak with the Dovahkiin.”

Fire glowed between his sharp teeth as he spoke.

“I suggest you’ll do as he says, or you’ll end up as a roast”, the Bosmer folded her arms across her chest. “No pressure.” 

“But I’ll never have another chance like this!” Farengar turned to address Alduin’s lieutenant. “Might I… um, _sir_ , at least—"

“ _No_.”

“Farengar, stand back”, the Jarl ordered. 

“But my lord, you must understand the weight this opportunity carried for us all.”

“Farengar, _now.”_

When the mage finally gave in and moved aside to observe the situation from afar, the intended interrogation was finally free to take place. Much to Aerdwyn’s surprise, Odahviing turned out to be willing to co-operate. According to him, other dragons had begun to question the black one’s strength and whose Thu’um truly was the strongest. He promised to help her, and should she triumph, even serve her. As the wood elf had no plans to remain on the mortal plain—at least she hoped she hadn’t—the offer was unnecessary but accepted nonetheless. Apparently, Alduin had fled to a place called Skuldafn, an ancient temple located on the eastern edge of Skyrim. The red dragon offered to take Aerdwyn there as it was far from Whiterun and time was of the essence. With every delayed moment, Alduin would only grow stronger. The Dragonborn knew that, and thus she did the unthinkable and agreed to Odahviing’s suggestion.

It was time to finish the chase once and for all.

***

The strong wind struck the elf’s skin like a wet rag, and it made her eyes water. Otherwise, the experience had no equal. To soar to the skies on the back of a dragon… How many people, mortal and immortal alike, could say to have experienced that? Though she was able to hold tight on the dragon’s horns, Aerdwyn had tethered herself to him with his consent to avoid suffering an unexpected fall. The ends of the red sash around her waist danced wildly in the air currents. The Bosmer savoured every moment of her unusual ride to Skyrim’s border. The feeling was similar to what only Sanguine had been able to arouse so far **,** so it was a truly rare occasion. If she could feel something like that on the Nirn, why would she leave?

That was the question she should have asked herself.

Maybe Esbern had been right in his distrust of the Dragonborn. Her motives were now purely selfish. She didn’t continue her quest to save the world but to be relieved of it. The Greybeards, along with everyone else, had kept telling her how defeating Alduin was her destiny as well as her duty as the Dragonborn. Why should she do anything more? The young Bosmer had put herself in mortal danger more times than she cared to count. She had been nearly eaten alive, burned, frozen, crushed… She couldn’t even name all the means used by her foes. Sanguine had been the first one in a long time to urge her to think about what _she_ wanted. Maybe his motifs had been as selfish as hers were now, but it didn’t change the facts. Everything he did, even when he had dominated her, made her feel good. That was the reason Aerdwyn had agreed to his “proposal”. She had been nothing but everyone’s target lately. That was true for Sanguine as well, of course **,** but the difference was, he wasn’t trying to kill her — quite the opposite. Once this whole “save the world” -quest was over, Aerdwyn would be the Lady of the Myriad Realms.

She’d be his, forever.


	21. The land of the fallen

The mist enshrouding the dreamlike landscape of Sovngarde was thick and full of ominous hunger. The land was dead silent.

No matter how ironic that sounded **,** it was true.

Aerdwyn used the same Shout with the help of which she was able to reach the Throat of the World, but it worked only momentarily. The Bosmer wandered down the path along which she met a Stormcloak soldier who was lost. She advised him to wait where he was and not to wander off, saying that the mist would soon be dispersed even if she had no idea how to do that yet. Would Alduin even be killable, or would he just escape again? Could anyone even die here, in the land of the heroic dead? The horrified cry the Dragonborn heard said yes.

 _Poor bastard,_ she glanced towards the sound before clearing the path for herself again. _Wherever you are, you overgrown lizard, I’ll have your ugly head._ _Just wait and see **.** _

The path was hazardous, and the guardian waiting for anyone who wished to cross the bone bridge to the Hall of Valour was, plainly put, a pain in the ass. The unusually tall Nord, presumably a god of some kind, had tested the Dragonborn’s mettle before letting her proceed. Now that she stood inside the hall, she stopped to gaze around and saw a Nordic feast of unfathomable scale. There were brawls, singing, cries of revelry…

 _Not a bad place to end up in,_ Aerdwyn mused to herself.

It was lacking in sex and some of the other aspects found on similar occasions in Sanguine’s domain, but still, the sight was impressive.

The glow of the roaring fires invited the fate-driven elf to venture further inside, but she didn’t follow their call due to the distinct feeling that she was being watched **—** and so she was. A burly warrior wearing armour made of leather, furs and steel approached her.

“Welcome, Dragonborn!” the man’s accent was peculiar. “Our door has stood empty since Alduin first set his soul-snare here.”

Aerdwyn didn’t bother to ask how he knew who she was and cracked a smile instead **.**

“And I’m here to kick him out”, she glanced down not to misstep when she finally descended the stairs **.** “Naturally, any helpful advice would be appreciated.”

“Shor has forbidden us from drawing our blades, but there still are three who await your word to loose their fury upon the black dragon. They’ll help you.”

“Three?” small wrinkles formed between Aerdwyn’s brows.

_The ones from the vision given by the Scroll?_

“They have battled with the World-Eater before”, the warrior continued, confirming her suspicions. “They’ll help you bring him down once and for all.”

“I know whom you speak of”, dimples formed on both sides of the bow-shaped lips “Thank you.”

Walking amongst the fire pits and large mead barrels, Aerdwyn eventually found the ones she had seen after opening the Dragon Scroll. The three heroes of old had clearly been waiting for her arrival and recognized her as quickly as the man she had met by the main door **.**

“At long last! Alduin’s doom is now ours to seal”, the fair-haired shieldmaiden with painted face rejoiced.

“Sorry if I kept you waiting”, Aerdwyn joked casually.

“Time has no meaning for us here”, an older Nord countered solemnly.

“Aye”, the younger, brown-haired man beside him agreed. “Nevertheless, our revenge on Alduin has been delayed for too long.”

“Patience, Hakon. We shouldn’t join the battle blindly. The mist is more than a snare, it’s also Alduin’s shield and cloak.”

“So, how do we get rid of it?” the Bosmer placed her hands on her hips.

“We’ll join our Voices”, the old Nord said. “Our might combined, we can blast the mist and bring him to battle.”

“On top of that, we have something the World-Eater fears: you, Dragonborn”, the Nord addressed as Hakon added. “We’ll shout off the mist and force a final battle of steel!”

That said, the three Nords drew their weapons and barged outside. Aerdwyn followed at their heels, pleased to see her eagerness shared.

 _If only all negotiations would be as swift_ , she chuckled to herself when she exited the hall.

Steel and leather boots tapped a rhythm on the whalebones as the four crossed the bridge. There, the guardian hailed them but did little else.

It was solely up to Aerdwyn and her few allies to defeat the World-Eater and save the fallen heroes from a gruesome fate **.**

They stopped at the edge of the thick mist, standing in line and ready. The black-haired wood elf felt a shiver on her skin, but it wasn’t the thrill of closing battle. It was caused by the knowledge that she was going to be freed from her responsibility—provided she’d survive, of course.

Aerdwyn hadn’t even considered the possibility of losing.

Now that the thought crossed her mind, she felt unusually tense as if she had been… nervous. She would be victorious or end up in a dragon’s digestion. Nimble, bloodied fingers sought the ruby-adorned hilts of her daggers and squeezed them firmly after curling around them.

The fair-haired Nord urged her and others to prepare to shout.

Aerdwyn inhaled deeply and raised her chin high. It wasn’t her day to die but that of Alduin’s.

“ ** _Lok_** _**Vah** **Koor**!” _

The mist was lifted from the lush hills of Sovngarde, but only momentarily. Alduin’s voice travelled across the night sky bathing in shades of purple and blue, covering it from sight again.

The heroes’ second try didn’t have any better results either.

Aerdwyn felt a growing annoyance within her, and she grimaced towards the sky.

“You can’t hide”, she snarled, “we’ll shout you to Oblivion!”

“He can’t put this up forever”, the shieldmaiden shouted tauntingly.

“Once more, and he’ll be forced to face us!” the grey-haired warrior agreed **.**

The Nords combined their might with that of the Bosmer’s once more, and this time, they banished the mist for good. The discontent roar of the World-Eater shook the landscape when he appeared on the horizon. His adversaries stood their ground with their weapons ready, and the unwavering confidence of her comrades-in-arms imbued Aerdwyn with valour **.** They had Dragonrend, and they stood together against one arrogant lizard.

There was no such option as failure.

The black dragon flew towards the Hall of Valour, breathing fire on the heroes as he passed them by. When he turned around to strike again, however, they didn’t stand and wait **.** Like he had done on the Throat of the World, Alduin fell from the sky and this time, he had no place to escape to.

“Dovahkiin”, he rumbled, “hin kah fen kos banaar.”

“Stop talking and die”, Aerdwyn growled and ran past him while the others challenged him directly.

She jumped to sunk her other dagger into Alduin’s side, and he took it with him when the effects of Dragonrend wore off. He didn’t get far, though, and was soon greeted by sharp edges of Nordic and Daedric metal. He countered them with his jaws and fire, and the final battle continued **.** The Dragonborn was able to retrieve her other dagger but got thrown aside by one of the black wings. She flew onto the ground, and air escaped her lungs. Alduin tried to finish her off, but the oldest Nord stepped between them, saving her life at that moment. With her back aching, Aerdwyn struggled to her feet and searched for a healing potion from her leather bag while the dragon was kept busy **.** She tore the cork off with her teeth and drank the bottle’s content.

 _Good try_ , she admitted with a laugh, feeling invigorated both in body and in spirit. _Next time, you won’t be so lucky._

The fields of Sovngarde were filled with thunder. Alduin tried to intimidate his foes with his Voice, but his attempt only proved that he was growing afraid.

His once-mighty wings were shredded, and he was covered in bleeding wounds. Alduin’s strength was veining, but the Dragonborn and her Nordic allies continued to fight tirelessly. When the dragon drooped his head, growling deep from his throat, the three attacked and tore at his flesh with their blades. Alduin screeched in pain he had never thought to experience in his hubris.

That was when the Bosmer saw her chance **.**

She charged towards the black nightmare who had been a pique in her flesh for months and plunged her daggers into his right eye. He shrieked and raised his head up high so suddenly that Aerdwyn’s hold slipped. She grunted from the impact upon hitting the ground but recovered quickly to back down and watch. The Nords did the same.

“Su’u unslaad! Zu’u nis oblaan!” Alduin repeated over and over again when his wounds began to glow.

His essence faded into the sky in streams of light until he exploded in a bright burst of fire.

Alduin the World-Eater was no more.

When the dust settled, Aerdwyn walked to the site of the black dragon’s defeat to search for her daggers. They had been a gift from her Prince, and she didn’t want to lose them **.** She laid her gaze on the ground while the Nords cheered to their victory.

“It’s… over”, she said aloud to make the truth more palpable and gave an incredulous laugh.

 _I’m finally free_.

The relief was so overwhelming that Aerdwyn failed to notice the gatekeeper who approached her.

“They will sing of this battle in Shor’s hall forever”, his tall shadow was cast on her by the aurora borealis now relit on the sky, “but your fate lies elsewhere.”

“Can”, the Bosmer took a breath after she picked up her second dagger, “can you send me back home?”

“Of course. When you have completed your count of days, I may welcome you again, with glad friendship, and bid you join the blessed feasting.”

Aerdwyn smirked wearily at the Nordic god of trials who prepared to send her back on the Nirn.

“Hopefully not”, she said. “There’s a place I’d rather be with my Prince, and he’s waiting for me.”


	22. Ascension

A portal opened on top of a high mountain. The Dragonborn fell out of it straight into the powdery snow, cursing. She was unprepared for the cold weather, and as soon as she got on her feet again, she started to rub her arms to keep herself warm.

It didn’t help much.

Aerdwyn looked around to see where the gatekeeper’s Shout had sent her to, only to realise that she was surrounded by several dragons. One by one, they took flight and soared to the sky, shouting.

_Ius’ deformity, **what now**_?

Luckily, Aerdwyn had landed on the Throat of the World, and Paarthurnax was there to stop the others from considering her a meal **—** at least that was what she hoped **.** The old dragon sat on the Word Wall, peering at his brethren who circled above. 

“So, it is done”, he then noted, turning to look down at the shivering elf. “Alduin dilon. The Eldest is no more.”

“I didn’t prefer the option of getting on his menu, sorry”, Aerdwyn tried to banish the cold by joking, but she failed.

“You did what was necessary. Alduin had gone too far in his pahlok – the arrogance of his power. But he was my brother once, and I cannot celebrate his fall.”

_Ugh. Keep it short this time, will you?_ Aerdwyn groaned silently. “It was him or this world. I simply preferred the latter.”

“Yes, at least it will continue to exist. Grik los lein”, Paarthurnax tilted his scaled head. “But I forget myself. Krosis. So los mid fahdon. Melancholy is an easy trap for a dovah to fall into. Forgive me, Dovahkiin. You have won a mighty victory.”

“Yeah, well, I’d drink to that if I could.”

Aerdwyn started to make jumplike pushes with her legs and lifted her gaze to the sky on which the other dragons still circled. Suddenly, the stroke of large wings caused a blast of snow to hit her face.

“Goraan!” Paarthurnax sounded to rejoice. “I feel younger than I have in many an age.”

_Glad to hear that_ ¸ the Bosmer sneered. _I feel chillier than in all my life._

“Many of the dovah are now scattered across Keizaal”, the grandmaster of the Greybeards stopped to speak to her once more. “Without Alduin’s lordship, they may yet bow to the vahzen… the rightness of my Thu’um.”

“Good on you.”

“Willing or no, they will hear it! Fare thee well, Dovahkiin!”

With that said, the old dragon flew off, leaving Aerdwyn to hang out to dry.

“ _Wait_! _Could you_ …? Oh, forget it”, she held a pause to blow on her cupped hands and rub them together. “Go on, fly away. I’m on foot, and I stand nearly waist-deep in this _blasted_ snow _!”_

Despite all the adversities the pale-skinned elf faced, luck was on her side. One of the dragons landed in front of her, and she quickly realised to be staring at the very same one who had carried her to Skuldafn.

“Pruzah windinne wa Wuth Gein”, Odahviing said. “I wish the old one luck in his… quest. However, I doubt the rate of his success.”

“So everything I did was in vain and your kind will run amok? Great, wonderful even”, Aerdwyn scoffed. 

“You’ve proven your mastery twice over. Thuri, Dovahkiin”, the red dragon continued. “I gladly acknowledge the power of your Thu’um. If you need my aid, call me, and I will come.”

“Actually, I could use that help right now”, the Bosmer hastened to say **.** “I don’t know about you dragons, but I’m _freezing,_ to put it mildly **.** Could you take me to Whiterun?”

“So be it. One of the joorre shall greet the skies once more.”

Aerdwyn’s teeth started to chatter, and she wasn’t sure whether she felt her fingers anymore.

“Much appreciated. _Thank you._ ”

***

It was surprising that he Forsworn hadn’t tried to retake their camp at Karthspire.

At least the Dragonborn though so as she had always considered the Reachmen to be stubborn as mules, but their absence made her journey easier.

After Odahviing had carried her back Whiterun, she had paid the Jarl a visit to thank him of his co-operation as well as to inform him that the mission had been a success **.** It hadn’t been necessary, but Aerdwyn had done so in search of closure. Her quest had truly begun in Dragonsreach, so it would have felt incomplete if she didn’t stop by. Furthermore, she had had to return to Whiterun in order to finally retrieve Baune. The dappled grey steed had carried her to Markarth and was now contently waiting for her return in the local stables **.** From there, Aerdwyn had continued on foot towards Sky Haven Temple.

She wasn’t sure why.

The Blades seemed to have done some recruiting of late. Several humans were carrying supply crates through the caves under Delphine’s supervision when Aerdwyn reached them.

The Breton was quick to notice her arrival.

“It’s good to see you, Dragonborn”, she greeted her. “I hope your mission was successful.”

“Alduin is dead if that’s what you’re asking”, Aerdwyn broke the news casually.

Something had put her at ease after she had left Whiterun, and the feeling hadn’t disappeared along the way.

“That’s great news”, there was a relieved tone in the fair-haired warrior’s voice. “Come, Esbern should be in the great hall. He’ll want to hear the whole story.”

“Lead the way.”

As Delphine had suspected, the older member of the Blades was studying Alduin’s Wall with the same enthusiasm as he had done upon initially seeing it.

“Esbern!” the Breton called out to the Nord. “You can rest easy and let the mural be. The World-Eater has been defeated.”

“’Defeated’? But how do you…?” the man’s sentence broke off when he turned around **.** “Ah. Good day to you, Dragonborn.”

“Hello, Esbern”, the Bosmer flashed him a smile. “Still studying the Wall, I see.”

Was that why she had come here? To gloat at him? Perhaps.

“The world is safe, all thanks to you. You fulfilled your destiny.”

“So everyone keeps saying.”

“What about Paarthurnax?” Delphine cut in. “Is he still alive?”

“He is”, Aerdwyn quirked an eyebrow. “What of it?”

“Such a shame, but if you considered it necessary… _Gods’ blood **,**_ what now?”

The loud crash coming from the temple’s living quarters was like a call for the Breton who didn’t look kindly on fooling around **.** While she left to investigate, the Bosmer remained with Esbern in the otherwise empty hall.

Aerdwyn glanced over her shoulder and wrinkled her nose.

“You know, I wanted to speak with you, actually”, she then pondered out loud, wandering to examine the covers of the books on the nearby table.

“With me?” the elderly Nord seemed genuinely surprised. “Why?”

“I came to confess”, the elf’s right hand rose to brush the surface of the staff she carried faithfully in the holster. “Consider yourself my priest and me as the sinner.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t quite follow you.” 

Aerdwyn drew forth the Sanguine Rose, but instead of saying anything, she stopped to inspect it closely when she noticed that something wasn’t right.

_Is it… withering?_

Esbern respected the Dragonborn’s sudden silence, but eventually, he encouraged her to continue and explain. She flinched, appearing disoriented before she turned to look at him again with a blink.

“You were right about the sash”, she told him while one of the Rose’s petals fell on the floor. “It was a gift.”

The Nord frowned and squinted his eyes momentarily.

“The red shade comes from blood grass, doesn’t it?” he perceived where Aerdwyn was getting at.

“I’m no scholar”, she shrugged, distracted by the fact that another petal fell onto the stone floor, “nor a botanist.”

The staff started to lose its glow, and its stalk turned brown.

_What’s happening?_

Esbern noticed the distraught look in the Bosmer’s eyes and glanced down at the Rose she held more tightly than before.

“It wilts with use, or so I’ve heard”, he explained. “It’s a shame even the Dragonborn can’t resist Daedric magic.”

“Oh, but she can.”

The staff fell on the floor. Its dry stalk shattered into several pieces, and the remaining petals scattered around it. Aerdwyn stood frozen in front of Esbern who looked past her with his mouth agape. The Daedra stepped out of the shadows of the stairs leading to the courtyard.

He was wearing extravagantly adorned black robes and a sash similar to that of Aerdwyn’s.

The Prince of Debauchery closed in on her to press his hand on her back, causing her to draw a deep breath and close her eyes.

“I tried to bewitch her once and failed”, Sanguine’s voice filled her mind. “She resisted me.”

“And yet, here you are”, the Nord mustered his courage to speak.

“Well, you see, my friend, your world is a dreary, grim place that forces people to be something they aren’t. She doesn’t want to be the Dragonborn, so I gave her a choice, and she stayed out of her own volition.”

The Bosmer’s eyes flew wide open, and they weren’t of their original, hazel shade anymore. Burning lines appeared on her forehead when the emblem surfaced and remained visible.

“You don’t need the staff anymore, sweet one”, her Prince whispered **.** “You’ll carry my Rose with you always.”

The right corner of Aerdwyn’s mouth formed a curve when his hand slid down her back, seeking her waist **.** She then cocked her head to the right, piercing the old Nord with her black gaze.

“Daedric magic isn’t all black and white, Esbern “, she told him while the glow of a portal broke the murky lighting of the temple. “You consider it a curse, but I see it as redemption. Farewell, my friend. Should you ever find yourself in Oblivion then please, drop by.”


	23. Epilogue: Trouble on Solstheim

How many days had passed by? One, two, a whole week of them?

No, it had to be more.

The wrinkles on the plush, red cushion followed Aerdwyn who shifted on it lazily. She had watched how one tiny part of the Myriad Realms had changed according to the wishes of its visitors. One of them bathed in gold dust while another one sat on a pile of small jewels. The latter desire was probably quite painful with all the sharp edges stinging the skin, but the Imperial didn’t seem to care. As long as he was happy, right?

The Bosmer grinned as she watched the man pick up a diamond and press it against his cheek like it was the softest fur.

Besides, people’s greed was… amusing **.**

It was a bit ironical that Aerdwyn lied there, watching all the humans, elves, and beasts alike bask in their lust for earthly wealth. She had given all that up herself, including her beloved steed. With a little magical help, she had sent a letter to Markarth's stable master with a hefty reward so he’d deliver Baune to Gerdur in Riverwood. She and her family had helped Aerdwyn after her... unfortunate run-in with the Legion, after all, and they’d undoubtedly take good care of her horse **.**

_Live well, my friend,_ the wood elf thought, rolling onto her back, _and kick as many bandits in the groin as you can._

While the Lady of Debauchery reflected on the life she had led among the mortals of Nirn, a portal opened nearby. The visitors paid no attention to it nor to the one who stepped out of it. They were like ghosts infatuated with their own sins. Aerdwyn, on the hand, noticed her Prince’s arrival immediately. She turned to rest on her right side, smirking at him playfully. She forgot her memories the moment she lost herself in the red lines covering Sanguine’s bare upper body.

“My Lord, you’re just in time”, she cooed. “I think that one of the Khajiit is about to turn her fur into pure gold.”

“A delightful thing to see, vixen”, the Lord of Debauchery didn’t sit next to her as he usually did. “Alas, there’s something I must ask of you.”

Strands of black hair were caught by the two, small horns that now stuck out from amidst it when the wood elf pushed herself off the soft cushion. The transparent, red hem of her gown glided over the velvet as she stood up and walked to Sanguine **.**

“Has something happened?” she asked, pressing her left hand on his cheek and tracing the line of his dark lips with her thumb.

“You are my queen, but you are also my champion”, he returned her gesture with affection. “Something has happened on the island near Skyrim.”

“It must be important if it worries you.”

“A group of my followers has disappeared”, Sanguine’s left hand glided over her long, silky hair. “I visited the shrine but found no-one.” 

“And you want me to investigate?” she asked.

She didn’t like the idea of it, but if her Prince wanted so, she’d go.

“I’m afraid so, sweet thing.”

The kind of request Sanguine had presented might have annoyed Aerdwyn before, but not anymore. When she had embarked on her quest to defeat Alduin, the people had expected her to manage on her own **.** This time she had someone to support her, the one whose fingers now caressed her bare shoulders **.** Sanguine’s touch was meant to make leaving the Myriad Realms more bearable for her. It would be an understatement to say that his gesture was appreciated, but still, it was unnecessary **.** She had pledged herself to him and was ready to accept whatever came along with that promise. She pressed her forehead affectionately against his upper chest **.**

“If it’s your will, I’ll obey.”

“It is”, Sanguine’s hand guided her to look at him again. “Before you go, however, there’s a party beginning in the Sanctum in your honour.”

“You spoil me”, Aerdwyn chuckled.

“Of course I do. So, are you coming **?** I’ve arranged something special, just for you.”

“Oh? Does it involve toys?”

“Would you like that?” the Prince smirked.

The curve of the Red Queen’s lips matched his perfectly.

“There’s no point in hiding my desires from you, my Lord.”

No point at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand... we have a cliffhanger, ladies and gentlemen! (Sorry about that. :D)  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the story. :) One day, we'll return to the Myriad Realms to see what happens when Sanguine sends his champion against that of Hermaeus Mora's. :)


End file.
